


Dwell Within

by altoclefgirl



Series: Dwell Within [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Tevinter Nights - Fandom
Genre: Confident Cullen Rutherford, Cullavellan - Freeform, Cullen Fluff, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Cullen Smut, Eventual Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), F/M, Lavellan/Solas Fluff (Dragon Age), POV Cullen Rutherford, POV Lavellan (Dragon Age), POV Solas (Dragon Age), Pining, Protective Cullen Rutherford, Sexy Solas (Dragon Age), Solas (Dragon Age) Smut, Solas (Dragon Age) is Grim and Fatalistic, Solas Lavellan Cullen Love Triangle, Solas Lavellan Smut, Solas is Fen'Harel (Dragon Age), Solavellan Hell, Solavellanhellartchallenge2020, Sweet Cullen Rutherford, Tevinter Nights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 34
Words: 112,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altoclefgirl/pseuds/altoclefgirl
Summary: Plot:As the last of the Lavellan clan, Mara leads her changed Inquisition in a new era, roaming Thedas for answers and allies to drop the Veil peacefully—with or without the Dread Wolf’s allegiance.Setting:Post-Trespasser/Tevinter Nights TimelineThemes of hope, redemption, slow burns, and ALL THE FEELS. Written as a prelude to Dragon Age 4.New:Engage with me and other readers on my channels to know when new chapters are available.alto.writes Insta|AltoWrites Twitter|altoclefgirl Tumblr|altoclefgirl Ko-FiArt commissioned by Tobio Fish for this work.
Relationships: Cole & Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Solas, Female Mage Lavellan & Solas, Fen'Harel/Inquisitor/Solas, Lavellan & Leliana (Dragon Age), Lavellan & Solas
Series: Dwell Within [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074359
Comments: 94
Kudos: 82
Collections: Dragon Age Inquisition, Unfinished Solavellan Fics





	1. Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17 of Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020  
> Chapter 1 of Dwell Within
> 
> *Some references are made to Tevinter Nights
> 
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She closed the door behind her, letting out a low and heavy breath. The quiet reverberations of the chamber door echoed alongside her slowing breaths. Her eyes remain closed, her feet unwilling to move a step forward. When the world slowed—when the earth was quiet, chamber torches unlit, the busy chatter of her remaining Inquisition circle and network in the foyer shushed—it was this minute moment that held all the power. This small moment in which she was alone with herself held the power to capsize her. She could feel the boundaries of the fade press against her body, as if gravity suddenly pushed against her horizontally and threatened to suffocate her. These were the moments she could very well crumble; any lasting motivation could disintegrate.

The fade felt thinner in the moments of solace, as if beckoning her to join. A small part of her wished to concede. In the first days after Solas donned the nomenclature of Fen’Harel, she had welcomed the Fade wantingly, scouring the expanse of the Fade in search of answers from his own mouth. She became the hunter, hungry for his scent and his truth. As she hunted, she felt both preyed upon and having just missed his trail. It was a sickly game in which she was both led and preyed—always within his scope but Solas never quite within her grasp. He had not yet made himself known to her. He was unyielding, a fortitude who sought to know but never be known to her. She remained quiet on her hunt, forgoing her nature to call to him.

When Solas had just left upon the defeat of Corypheus, she would call to him in the Fade, a devout and breaking plead. On the night of his return to don the name Fen’Harel, it was the last time she pleaded his name in the Fade.

In the recent months, she chose not to step into the land of The Dreaming. And since her decision, it appeared the Fade hungered for her lingering presence. For months now, the Fade had often felt like a gentle, nodding breeze away, as if she could simply take one step forward into the Fade. And tonight in her chambers, the Fade excited the magic within her and around her. The magic buzzed and blanketed her with its weight, as she still stood at the door to her chambers. _Let me take you_ , it whispered in her mind, but it felt like a warm breath and graze to her neck.

Mara drew in a breath, her eyes still closed. Dare she let the Fade take her?

The magic air around her swirled with warmth, even though the chamber had a cool, night breeze rolling through the window. The warm magic air roamed around her, capturing her hair and caressing her body in an almost affectionate manner. The ends of her tunic fluttered from the warm current, lifting so that her stomach was grazed with the warm magic. She swore she could feel weight pressed to her face, as if her cheek was being touched by a welcome lover. She lifted up her own hand to her face to feel the phantom guest. She sensed dense warm air upon her cheek—palpable to her own hand. She leaned her face against the grazing phantom hand, leaning into comfort she had been without.

She had kept everyone at arm’s length--her ambassador, her spies, her warriors, and the family she found with the Inquisition. The sad eyes from her friends never relinquished—she wasn’t sure if it was unending pity or reaction to the continued depth of her pain. Varric had once told her he wasn’t sure if Mara was the most unlucky person to have lived or chosen by Andraste herself. They both settled on miraculously bad luck. It felt as if there was consensus among her friends, that she was perpetually doomed to hurt and to save the world. Poor thing. She hadn’t talked to anyone about her feelings, or her dealings with perpetual misfortune.

But tonight she entertained the idea of company—whether it was a spirit, the Fade, or her lover shrouded in the Fade. She wasn’t quite sure who or what called for her, and this could be the moment to collapse. The Fade pulled harder on her body, as if magnetized, aching to draw her in. She did not dare move, not even a shuffle of her feet. The pull centered in her chest, and beckoned to draw her arms forward. She sucked in a deep breath, her chest trembling with the attraction and anticipation of company.

The warm breath that whispered in her ear moved to her face, and she felt a presence just beyond her lips. The warmth flooded her body, longing stirring within her. Eyes still closed, she moved her right hand forward to the bound presence of the Fade, and it felt as if there was a familiar face in her hand. The face was merely centimeters from her own. Her hand felt the jaw of the presence, and leaned her head forward, against the presence’s brow. Her breath quickened, heavy and warm, as the presence’s breath rushed over her lips. The singular moment felt like a drum roll of anticipation, neither party moving forward as their hearts raced. Her whole body trembled, and to regain any strength left she took in a slow deep breath, her body pulsing.

She opened her mouth, feeling their breath against her own. The presence of their mouth lingering over her own but not touching.

“Thank you for sparing her.” Mara let out, her hand moved from the presence’s jaw to their chest, faintly feeling a thump of a heart beat. The drum roll continued for a few seconds, then suddenly the boundary of the Fade snapped, the breath and heart beat and the pull of the Fade gone sharply. The suddenness gave out her legs, her whole body shaking until she hit the floor kneeling. She finally opened her eyes, and her chamber was just as it usually was. Her armor strewn across the bed, the covers on her side of the bed untucked.

At that, the clarity of the room was skewed, as tears poured from her. The pull from the Fade, the love of a ghost, did her in. The small moment of longing had cracked her, like the Elvhen artifact that was left for Corypheus. And the magnitude of magic pouring out of the artifact rivaled the explosive pain scouring from her soul.

She was capsized.

The pain rolled over her in tumultuous waves, crashing and breaking within her body. Her breaths were quick and uneven as her whole body shook cataclysmically, unable to see or to move. Her pain over the months and years had condensed to a singular point, and now it exploded like a supernova, gushing years of quiet, deepening pain into the open. This was the first time she had cried in 13 months, since the day of their last kiss while chasing him through the Eluvian.

The grief rocked her, and she solemnly kneeled, her head bowed to the floor, her arms crossed to her chest. All of her poured out, as her heart had burst with the mere chance to be so close to him. She let out a soft wail, that paled in comparison to its weight.

Her face, her ears, and her body felt as if it were on fire. She struggled to breathe, and the air rasped from her lungs, feeling as if she were suffocating. The air fluttered, and a cool breeze swept over her body. She gently raised her head to look to the window, forgetting she left it open to cool the room. The sight of her chamber was barely visible between the tears, but when she looked up she caught the dark silhouette of a friend and his hat. She sucked in a breath, as shaky as it was, and opened her mouth to speak, but only a cry escaped her mouth. Her friend placed a hand on her shoulder, knelt to her on the floor, and charged the magic in the air to a gentle cool breeze. As the cold air washed over her, she found it slightly easier to breath.

“Burning, broken. Escape, searching. His pride had failed him, brief.”

Cole knelt before her, his quiet kindness other worldly. She honored his choice to stand true to his spirit of compassion, their friendship unwavered over their many years, although he was rarely present with the Inquisition these days. Tonight he had found her, her grief struck violently and reverberated within himself. The magnitude of her grief rivaled the ruins of a battlefield. He could not recall feeling so much pain within one being. “The hurt, jagged, knotted, gripping. It should be released”. Cole looked at her, moving the hand from her shoulder to gently swipe the hair covering her face. “You should be freed”. Cole himself felt anguish at the insurmountable depth and complexity of his friend’s love.

He knew she needed the warmth of a friend. Cole was the only friend she allowed to comfort her, and even the few occasions of comfort were brief, gentle touches to her shoulder. “Let me help you,” Cole begged, quiet and gentle. At least he could try to unwind the many tethers Solas had on her heart.

She looked up at Cole, her bangs brushed from her face. Her eyes met his, and his eyes had never looked so worrisome. She sucked in a breath to steady herself. “You want me to forget, and I can’t.” Her eyes asked him to feel what was underneath the pain, deeply rooted and without fault. The love was rooted within and intertwined with her own soul, that if unraveled, it would also tear apart any hope of continuing. Of living.

She didn’t need him to recite the marvels and perils of her feelings. And he gathered this just the same. Their eyes met again, Cole gently nodded and understood. He may not have agreed, but she allowed him to glimpse into the depths of her heart. “I will stay a few minutes.” She silently nodded back, still knelt on the floor. She reached out her arms to hug him—quite positive this was the first hug he ever received. He allowed the hug, and she was surprised at his warmth. She stayed there for a moment until her trembling subsided and her breathing was rhythmic. “Thank you,” she whispered. And with a flutter, he was gone.

~

Earlier that night she had received a letter from one of the Inquisition spies, Charter. The Inquisition had arranged a meeting with several ambassadors from across Thedas to discretely share the current findings of the Dread Wolf—in what he sought and his successes in his pursuit. The Inquisition sent Charter, a trusted Elven spy who had been with the Inquisition since Haven. The Inquisition had learned that the Dread Wolf was still without the idol, but more importantly he was at the meeting.

_“He was there, Inquisitor. He disguised himself to learn how much we knew about him._

_He killed the ambassadors before the end, but he spared me._

_I think he was hoping you would have been there._

_-Charter”._


	2. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18 of the Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020
> 
> Chapter 2 of Dwell Within
> 
> The story references some details from Tevinter Nights.
> 
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After Cole had left her chamber, Mara stayed knelt on the floor for a moment, gathering her strength to stand while her mind buzzed.

It felt like she had been repeatedly crushed by a giant’s thrown and tumbling boulders. Her body felt immensely heavy and beyond exhaustion.

She came to and lifted her knees, her legs shaking from exhaustion. Mara walked over to her bed and sat at the edge. Her armor was strewn on the opposite side of the bed, what would be his side. She turned her head to look at his side, the duvet tucked and pillows untouched. This was not the same bed as Skyhold. Skyhold was a long memory with only caretakers maintaining the grounds now.

The core of the Inquisition network was currently in Antiva, in a small and quiet fort obtained through their Ambassador Josephine. After a lost relative’s passing, the small fort, cottages, and land were given to Josephine’s family. Josephine granted its use to the Inquisitor, although in quiet. The Inquisition had collected grounds and lands of varying size in the past couple of years, all contracts in secret. Some lands were lent, some given, but none publicly listed any member of the Inquisition as its owner.

In the aftermath of Corypheus, larger noble families of both Orlais and Fereldan feared the power of the Inquisition and its free reign. Although publicly the Inquisition disbanded, the contacts and underground business had strengthened and rivaled the resources and opportunity during its campaign against Corypheus. The Inquisition had spies in many houses of nobility, within armies, within chantries. The Inquisition had made connections in the underground, and was awaiting a conference with the Antivan Crows—or at least the remaining Crows.

The Inquisitor kept in discrete communication with Divine Victoria. Divine Victoria had been one of their own, and while separately serving the Chantry, the Divine agreed upon renewing constitutions with the nobles and the lands, working toward outlawing slavery of any people, and amending the nobles’ responsibility of current and future refugees.

Mara had not taken any vows, unlike her Companions as Seekers or Templars. Perhaps her own vow was to save the world and its people— all of its people. She gave her body to save Thedas. The mark bestowed to her responsibility, and the mark sacrificed her body. While never asked to bare the mark, she solemnly wore its crown.

Mara’s focus shifted, and she looked down at her body. The day’s grime and the night’s heartbreak wore on her body and her clothes. While her head still buzzed with thoughts, there was no way she could fall asleep just yet.

She braced herself and stood up, moving her armor and staff to the armoire. She pulled out a clean set of sleep clothes, a silky strapped blouse and shorts, and a robe. She walked over to the marbled tub, the flooring changing from plush carpeting to stone. She set the clothes down on a small ottoman, and began to slip her clothes off her body. She removed her tunic first, finally feeling a cool breeze against her skin. Her skin felt hot and sticky from earlier. She had trekked to the coast to retrieve a message from the Crows, left in an indiscriminate location. She had also met with new recruits, as found through Blackwall.

Her skin was dirty with sand, sweat, and tears. It was time to wash away it all.

She turned the faucet of the marble tub, and the water started to fill. The tub came up to her hip and was large enough to seat more than one comfortably. She checked the water with her hand, wading her fingers across the top of its surface. She picked up a glass container of herbs, and poured the contents out into the water. The water began to froth and became tinted with pink. She placed the herbs in the water, a mixture of elfroot, to heal some of the cuts and scrapes on her body from her day’s journey. When the tub was 3/4 full with warm, steaming water, she took off the remaining of her clothes and accessories, and slipped in the tub. She sunk her body low under the water, the herb mixture bubbling on her skin. The warmth of the water was welcoming to her tired skin. She drew in a heavy breath, leaned her head against the lip of the marble tub, and let out a low sigh as she closed her eyes.

He had been at the arranged meeting tonight. And he had been here—or close enough. He had pressed against the boundaries of the Fade and almost as a ghost held her face in his hands, his mouth breathing and hovering over her own. This was the closest they had been since he had removed her mark, and embraced her as he took apart what was killing her.

Even as she had journeyed the Fade to seek him, and later to hunt him, he had never allowed her to find him and catch him. Perhaps he was afraid of being captured and what it meant for his grand plans. She wondered if he actually knew that many of her actions and decisions were to prepare a world in which the Forgotten Ones and the Evanuris were confronted—and battled if need be.

Solas himself present at the meeting, disguised among the ambassadors, wanting to know what the best of Thedas had figured out about him, appeared alarming to her. Was he doubting his plans? Was he scared that others had figured out the utility to his end game? Was he truly hoping for her to be there? Would he have confronted her, killed her, or spared her like he did Charter?

Her actions were made out of love—for the good of Thedas, for the freedom of the ancient Elves trapped on the other side, for the sake of her Elvhen ancestry, and for him. How did he not get that? How can he be so singularly focused to believe that destruction is the only means to restoration and freedom?

Mara sucked in a deep breath, and sunk her head underwater. She shook her head gently, then lifted her head back up, exhaling her breath. In her hand she poured some shampoo, and ran it through her long, dirty blonde hair. Her hair was much longer than at Skyhold, and she often kept her hair in braids and out of her face for combat. Her hair was darker underneath, and blonder further to the ends. She dipped her head back, and scrubbed the shampoo out, a lovely scent of camellia flower hazed above her. A small smile spread on her lips. She let the aroma sink in as she caressed her skin with a loofa. She began to think of the last time she had been touched by a lover, as she rolled the loofa from her lower leg to her upper thighs. It had been years, and it had been him. She rolled her neck back, then squeezed the loofa over her neck, bubbles cascading down her chest. She breathed in deeply, her chest rising against the playfulness of the bubbles.

It had been the night before going to the Temple of Mythal. She had returned to her chamber after she had confirmed the preparations for tomorrow’s journey. Mara found him waiting for her in the dark on the couch across from her bed. The moonlight streamed through the balcony doors, highlighting his lips. He must have slipped quickly into her chambers as she had been away. On this night, there were no exchange of words. She found him on her couch, and she joined him, slipping her legs over his in a straddle. She remembered looking into his eyes and felt hunger looking right back at her. Her lips met his without wait, and they sunk into each other rhythmically and passionately. Her hips had started to move on his, and she felt his hands linger up her tunic, tracing the curves of her waist up to the center of her chest. With another hand, he lifted the tunic from her head, and began kissing the same route of his hand. He leaned her back as she straddled him, dipping her, and placing his warm lips on her navel, kissing her from her abdomen, slowly and sensually, up her chest, kissing the mounds of each breast. With each trailing kiss, he pulled her back closer to him, his face now level with her breast. He looked up at Mara, wantingly, his hands continuing to wander gently over her breast then to her backside. His mouth met the curve of neck in a kiss, his wet lips meeting the warmth of her skin. He paused and looked into her eyes, her eyes matching his longing. In one swoop he stood and picked her up, her straddled legs wrapped around him. He carried her over to the bed, laying her down with fervor and tenderness. Mara had looked up at him, already breathless in anticipation and hunger. He caught her gaze, and moved his hands to strip off the rest of her garments, doing so with ease and tenderness. As he pulled her pant legs, his hands wandered to her thighs and squeezed them, beginning to nibble the skin over her thighs. No one had ever made her feel the way he did. No one had loved her with such tenderness, care, and matched hunger.

Upon removing her garments, he swiftly removed his, and rejoined his place atop of her, one arm propping himself up. They lay facing other another, his free hand lifting to run his fingers through her hair, then tracing his fingers along her face. She watched his hand glide to touch her face; Mara then reciprocated and held his face in hers. Their eyes met for several seconds, their expressions growing and changing to mirror anticipation, admiration, infatuation, lust, and then back to adoring. “Ar lath ma,” he breathed heavily, and quietly.  
Warmth cascaded within her body. Everything about him did her in—his coy quips, his genius, his intelligence, his voice, his mouth, his hands, his words. “Ar lath ma ir”, she repeated back, unequivocally. She awaited his mouth to meet hers to show him just how much.

Mara shook her head and realized the bath water had turned lukewarm. She swept off any remaining bubbles on her bare skin, then stood up, water rippling down her body. Her skin stippled in the cool breeze of her chamber, and she shivered in place as she reached for a plush towel. She padded her body with the towel, then rung out her hair of excess water with the cloth. Stepping out of the marble tub, she reached for her robe. In the corner of her eye, she swore she saw a figure in the shadows. She stopped, the robe slipping from her hands.

The figure stepped out from the shadows, quietly and unmeasured, walking towards her. Blue eyes followed the robe slipping to the floor, and in one small grasp he caught the robe before it fell. He knelt before her with the robe in his hand, bowing his head. The man before her did not look at her face. His body told a different story than the ominous figure many came to fear.

Right now he appeared uncalculated, without scheme or pretense, and without pride. She took in his presence, less gallant than the golden armor she had last since him in. He wore a dark tunic with light armor and leggings, his staff strapped to his back. His breath was quiet and soft.

Mara knelt down on the stone floor, about a foot from him. His gaze still on the floor, his weight shifted as he reached out his arm that held her robe. Mara’s right hand lifted to touch him, her hand gently curling on his forearm. The shadowed man visibly sunk with her touch. She held her hand on his arm for a moment, and then traced her fingers up the length of his arm, to his shoulder, and up to his face. His breath became louder at her touch as if hurt by her compassion.  
She laid her hand gently on his cheek, moving her body closer to his. “Solas?” Mara asked, patiently waiting for him to invite her in to his thinking. He made it here—the most he has been able to relinquish in his overarching plans.

Solas took in a sharp breath, then unfolded the robe in his hands, wrapping the robe around her shoulders to drape over her bare body. He took another breath, before lifting his face to look at her. She looked beautiful, and tired, and nearly broken. The moonlight danced on her body while the torchlight flickered. She had aged from her years of carrying the world, and giving her body to the world. He figured that giving her heart to him also aged her, decayed her, and only took from her. Her hair had grown and looked darker as it was wet from bathing. She smelled sweet and clean, and her skin was quite warm to the touch.

Solas appeared torn and deciding, any cloud of arrogance no longer hung over him. He looked beautiful as always, but his eyes pained with millennia of hurt, failed plans, and consequences that overshadowed any good-natured intent. His eyes told her that he was tired of fighting with himself, and did not have the strength to be the Dread Wolf tonight. And yet, he now had the strength to return to his home.

“My pride forsake me,” he whispered, his eyes lowered.

Mara drew him closer, resting her brow against his, his breath flush on her skin. Longing stirred within her, his breath and closeness tantalizing. She lifted her head gently, the robe slipping off her shoulders and down her back She placed her right arm around his neck and pulled him in, kissing him lovingly, assuredly, deeply. Kissing him made her heart flutter and her skin buzz, feeling drunk on his prowess. Her lips parted, and a heavy sigh escaped her. Even if for tonight, he continued to be the reason she fought for more. His lips moved against hers and she sunk into him, their bodies still knelt to the stone floor. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and lifted the both of them to their feet. She gasped smally as she was lifted, now standing before him. His stature seemed larger now than when on the floor. His presence was large and powerful, and it reminded her of his quiet strength that ultimately made her fall.

The two stood, wrapped in each other’s embrace. His lips parted once more, breathing in the cool night air that was becoming electrified with her warmth. He kissed her lower lip, then began to trail him warm mouth from her lips to her ear. He breathed heavily in her ear, sighing for giving into the longing. “Will you have me, Vhenan,” he asked, while pulling his fingers through her wet hair and kissing her neck.

She let out a small moan and nodded. He picked her up in his arms, carrying her a few feet over to her bed, and laid her down gently in the center. His eyes roamed her body, hungrily taking her in. There were more scars across her, but to be fair it had been years since he had seen her like this. The look in her eyes hadn’t changed though, even through the years and the many wrong and poor choices he had made. He didn’t deserve her—he knew that without question. But she also didn’t deserve for his actions to continue to take its toll and destroy her. He hadn’t made his mind up yet on how to proceed, but if the love in her eyes hadn’t changed then maybe this world is worth saving.

Solas climbed into the bed, hovering over her. Seeing her body before him, her pale skin glowing pearl in the moonlight, her face rosy, her full lips parting and breathing him in—the sight of her was hypnotic. And for this, for her, he was going to take his time.


	3. Slip Into Your Skin (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 of Dwell Within  
> Day 19 of Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020  
> NSFW  
> This work contains references to events in Tevinter Nights.  
> The chapter title comes from artist Patrick Watson's song "Slip Into Your Skin" from his album Close to Paradise.
> 
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_Will you take me, Vhenan?_

His words hung heavy in the air around them, mixing with the anticipation buzzing like magic in her room. His pride fallen, with thoughts and urges flooding her. She was afraid of saying anything that would make him retreat, afraid that the smallest ill-spoken word would shatter this moment that had taken years for him to concede. Ever since coming back from the Temple of Mythal, after he had erased her Vallaslin, it felt that each word escaping her mouth was divisive, and drove the two further apart. But if she were silent now, would she lose the man before her, dooming him to his destructive fate?

Mara looked up at him, hovering before her until sinking down on top of her. He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, and stretching out their arms until they lay cradled above her head against the bed. He leaned into her neck, nuzzling his brow, his cheek, then his lips across her neck, dragging his lips and applying soft kisses. He had remembered that this tease made her stir. Her chest heaved and she let out a soft sigh, beginning to gently roll her hips.  
He kissed her neck tenderly, beginning to bite a trail leading from behind her ear, slowly and measured, kisses and nibbled down to the nape of her neck. He ran his lips over her clavicle, then ran his tongue over her, down to the midline of her chest, ending with a soft kiss on her sternum. He rested his head on chest briefly, sighs escaping him and heavy breaths left Mara’s lips.

Solas knew the achings of her body, and the secrets to tantalize and please her, all wrapped with tenderness. The years apart did not negate how he cherished her body and her heart. He had been too proud to see the world as she did, but he loved her kindness, her strength, her resilience, and her compassion. She was the best person he had ever met, among eight millennia, and yet he did not know how to continue on his way and love her the way she needed. Perhaps it was time to see the world as she did.

Solas smirked from her small squirming and heavy breath. He pulled up to her, met her lips with his, and kissed her thoroughly, hands still intertwined above her head. He parted his lips and let out a breath in a low voice, “my heart”. He felt her lips curve into a smile against his, kissing her back fully, before stopping.  
  
She opened her eyes and looked up to his gaze. Her heart was pounding against her chest. Being so close to him was intoxicating. Her thoughts buzzed. I miss you. She was afraid to say it, afraid that he would pull back. She rested her brow against his temple, breathing heavily. “I need you,” the words finally escaping her.

Solas pulled back just enough to see the entirety of her face, the rosiness in her face, her lips parted and pleading, and her eyes longing. His free hand brushed against her lips, his thumb remaining on her bottom lip. She was anticipating. He was reeling, ready to give into the longing. Thumb still on her bottom lip, his eyes lingered on her mouth then up to her eyes. He sucked in a breath, and quietly escaping he whispered, “I have always loved you”. His hand trailed down from her mouth, outlining her face, then moved his hand just over her heart. He leaned down lower, his hand trailing down to her navel, and his mouth kissed the skin over her heart. He nuzzled his face gently against her chest, kissing her skin, hovering his warm and wet mouth over her breast. He kissed in circles over her breast until finally, softly kissing her nipple. He looked up to see her face, as she let out a soft moan. At this, he briefly released his hands from her, pulling the tunic from his body, and swiftly taking off any remaining garments. He missed the feeling of his skin against hers. She was warm, inviting, soft, and gentle. He hovered over her once more, lowering himself to her, fully intending to never let their bodies part again.

Her eyes widened as he became bare. She had missed his touch, the warmth and strength resonating from him. His body was beautiful, perfection. If possible he appeared even stronger, filling out his chest and shoulders with rippling muscles. He looked like a god. She didn’t understand how she had ever stolen his attention, allowing her to captivate him.  
With himself lowered on her body, she had spread her legs inviting him in. His face was now parallel with hers, he kissed her passionately, embedded in desire. His hands began to roam over the curves of her body. One hand in her hair at the back of her neck, his other hand tracing her lines from her neck, her navel, her waist, and down to her inner thighs. His hand grazed her thigh, giving them a squeeze, before moving his hand down closer to her.

She was warm, hot in fact. He kissed her deeply, gently biting and tugging on her bottom lip, his hand moving further into her warmth. A small gasp escaped her lips and her mouth opened wider. He kissed her with more hunger, his fingers meeting her delicate folds. He swirled his fingers, and moved his mouth to her neck, beginning to suck just below her jawline. His fingers moved rhythmically between her folds, sinking further into her, and carefully watching her expression. She appeared pleased, peaceful, and aroused. He moved his face down to her breast, nuzzling and stroking his tongue against her breast, sucking tenderly. This combination eased her open, as her breath became heavy and loud. With one hand still behind her neck, he gave her hair a tug. She moaned and sighed. She was ready, and he was ready to join her.  
He continued to nibble her breast, swirled his fingers within her, before aligning himself and pressing into her, gently. Her hips began to roll, easing him in, enjoying the feeling of him within her walls.

He licked a trail from her breast, to her neck, her jaw, and back to her mouth. He wanted to be as close to her as possible, seeing her face change in pleasure, and feeling her warm breath directly in his ear. They quickly found a rhythm, and he let her lead, matching what she needed. This was about her. From now on everything was about her.  
He sensed she was ready to take the reins. He swiftly rolled them so that now he was on his back, her above and laying closely against him, her chest flush with his. She continued moving her hips, moving forcefully, and just where she needed. He encouraged her, and moved his hands over her body to one of her hips, pulling her in closer. She made a sound as he pulled her in, and he couldn’t help but to look at her in admiration. Her body was flushed red, warm and damp from the heat of their bodies. She looked like a goddess, hovering over him and pleasing herself with him.  
She began to tremble and became weak, and he knew this was the time for him to continue moving, grinding, until her release. He continued kissing her passionately, moans escaping her mouth, as she lifted, shuddered, and gripped his arm, her nails digging into his skin. She let out the smallest gasp and cry, fulling sinking down on top of him, out of breath and out of words. She laid her head on her chest, breathing hard. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him, their limbs tangled within each other. He squeezed his hold on her, kissing her forehead laid against him.

Tangled in her skin, he felt like a different man with her. Perhaps the man he had been afraid he would never amount to. He sighed, happily intertwined. They remained silent, other than the soft hums and buzz of the release.  
“You’re beautiful, Mara,” he whispered to her with warmth and all the love within him.  
If possible, her face reddened more with her blushing. She smiled so brightly and effortlessly, resting against his chest.  
She lifted her head to meet his gaze, beaming with the resounding love in her heart, flowing forth. She leaned in and kissed him, tenderly and softly. She left her lips on his, waiting a moment before opening them to speak. “I love you so much, Solas.” Her voice was quiet, but carried so much warmth and certainty. Their eyes met, and maybe for the first time they equally saw into the depths of each other. No more hiding.

“Now, would you like to stay for tea?” She asked, fighting a smile before letting out a warm chuckle. His eyes narrowed, perplexed because she knew he hated tea, then left out a sigh himself, reaching behind him for a pillow then throwing it at her. “I will stay for a while, but no to the tea.” Solas felt certain of where he wanted to stand with her, but was unsure of where to go from here. I guess that will be discussed over tea, or another beverage.


	4. Agency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 of Dwell Within  
> Day 20 of Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020
> 
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The first few months after Corypheus’ defeat were blurred and choppy in Mara’s mind. Strings of days and weeks were forgotten. She could not piece together sequences of events, recall decisions, or the conversations among friends and comrades. She had lost time and months. It was as if she was cut off from the world—unable to listen, engage, choose, react, or establish any sense of agency. She had dissociated, heavy and motionless, as if she had turned to stone as the rest of the world continued to move forward.

The world was celebrating, while Mara was frozen and alone in mourning. She had been unlucky enough to stumble upon the exchange on the Elven artifact, to harness the power of the Elven artifact in her left hand, to slay foes and unite much of Thedas against the demigod, to fall in love with the man responsible for passing the orb to Corypheus, and to watch her best friend and lover walk away without explanation.

13 months ago, Solas manipulated events to lead her to the Eluvians to uncover the Qunari plot. Unlike the intuitive _fight_ response her body reacted to in combat, battle, and negotiations, her body instead associated anguish brought on by Solas as _freeze_. Again, she found herself drowning within herself, unable to gasp, call for help, or fight against the flooding of despair. She lost the first month after Solas announced himself as Fen’Harel, her body empty and disconnected to the life and events around her. 

The first memory she could recall was 5 weeks after Fen’Harel’s reveal. She sat alone in an arm chair by the fireplace of the current house the Inquisition was occupying, somewhere in Southern Orlais. She was staring into the fire, the red and golden flames flickering around the lone remaining log, until alas only embers remained. She continued to stare at the fireplace, unphased that the fire had dwindled and that she was cold. In the periphery of her right eye, the room had darkened with a figure. She continued her gaze, vaguely hearing murmuring in the background of the parlor.

“Inquisitor.” Cullen stood to her right, repeating her title with respect. He had been in the parlor for the past couple of hours, reviewing reports and finishing the last of his supper. Between reading and bites, he had kept an eye on Mara by the fireplace, how she hadn’t moved in 2 hours, not even to shift her weight in the armchair. He recalled seeing her like this before a few years earlier after their victory with Corypheus. She was a force to be reckoned with in battle, charming among meeting dignitaries and contacts, and exuded a quiet strength. People carry their burdens differently—some act out, divulge in vices, channel anguish into rehearsal. But for her, it appeared she shut out the world and was alone in her mind. 

Cullen did not find fault with her reaction. Unlike her, he had lost his cool when battling his own demon—his addiction to Lyrium. He had chosen to break the hold it had on him and trusted Cassandra to review his mental health and stability. His anger seared within him, his shame for being weak was on the forefront of his mind. He had lost his temper again and again and couldn’t withstand the shaking from withdrawals and fury. The Inquisitor had walked into his room at Skyhold, just as he had thrown materials from his desk at the wall with frustration. He refused to let down the Inquisition, but this moment was his breaking point. He remembered the worry in her eyes and her commendation for working toward recovering from addiction. She had shown him grace and compassion, and she ordered him to continue his path in solidarity. Until then, he had only seen her as some unattainable leader sent by Andraste herself. He hadn’t seen her as someone real, as someone who could be a friend. He admired her quiet strength. She had carried the world before, and now with the world a very different place, she was asked to do it again.

Cullen folded the report and closed it in a leather satchel. He set aside his empty dishes from supper, then grabbed a small plate of finger foods and walked over to the Inquisitor. In all her strength, she was suffering alone. It wasn’t fair for the world to continue to ask so much of herself, but she persisted. And now she was drowning unaccompanied.

He stood to her right, just outside her line of vision near the fireplace. He repeated her title once more--her face had not even flinched. He knelt down and sat at the hearth, the fire down to its embers and barely emitting warmth. He looked up at her, fully within her line of sight. “Mara,” he asked, firmly but with respect. 

After several seconds, her gaze shifted to him, her head moving slightly to her right. Cullen was about two feet before her, sitting on the hearth on the fireplace. His face looked serious, and tired. She noted wrinkles she hadn’t noticed before by his eyes. His eyes appeared darker, too. His face unshaven and more rough that she recalled seeing it. She didn’t know how long he had looked this way, or how long he had been waiting. He was a patient man, having helped many Templars defeat their Lyrium addiction. He was a good man to pick up his sword again for the Inquisition.

She briefly met his gaze, then looked down to her feet. “Mara,” he spoke again then continued. “Will you join me tomorrow morning in the fields? I’d like your help with training.” His words lingered in the air, wondering if she had heard him. After about 30 seconds, she gave a nod.  
“Good.” He nodded back with a small smile. “Now eat up and get some rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow.” He handed her the small plate of finger foods he had brought over to her. She didn’t reach out a hand to receive the food, so he laid it down on the hearth. She remained quiet. He stood up, dusting off his pants. “Goodnight,” he stated politely. As he began to walk away, he swore he heard a small whisper of _Goodnight_ echoing back to him.

Cullen awoke just before dawn, maintaining his strict schedule and dedication. He put on his armor, gathered his sword and shield, and walked down the stairs into the dining room. The dining room smelled of sweet pastries and coffee. He helped himself to a large cup of coffee, before noticing that the Inquisitor was at the end of the dining table, with a cup before her. She looked quite tired and he wondered if she had even slept. 

He brought over a plate of food and his cup, sitting perpendicular to her. “I’m used to being the first up.” He said playfully, wondering if today was a new day for her. She turned her head to him, her right hand on her coffee mug. Her lips barely moved, smally acknowledging his statement. “Did you even get some sleep?” He asked, seriously wondering now. Her clothes had changed at least, and she was in her armor, her staff leaning against the wall.

“Some.” Her voice was raspy and tired. She lifted the coffee mug to her lips and drank some coffee, before setting in back down. _Some_ had meant a few minutes here and there, but collectively less than an hour of sleep. _Some_ was technically the truth.

Cullen decided to forgo further conversation, concentrating on the muffins he had selected and the fruit. He ate for a few minutes further, then when finished he asked, “Are you ready?” Of course she had been. There was no plate before her and her coffee mug had been empty for about 10 minutes. She nodded, standing up and taking her staff from against the wall. Cullen stood as well, clearing his food, then leading the way to the front entrance of the property.

There was barely any light out, the sunrise happening any minute now. The air was sharp and cool, frost covering the plush green ground. It was perhaps just above freezing; you could see their breaths as they walked through the frosted ground to the practice field. Mara followed Cullen for a few minutes, looking around for possibly new recruits to train. Cullen stopped in the field and turned around to her, watching her expression.

“Where is everyone?” She asked, wondering if she had missed a part of the conversation. He had asked her to help with training.

Cullen let out a breath before speaking. “We’ll be training… It’s just us.” Mara cocked her head for a moment, then her eyes began to sting, her throat tightened and she felt heat flush in her cheeks and ears. What she had feared to speak of, to acknowledge, even to herself. He was before her pulling the threads, opening the wound that was buried and suppressed. She clutched her right hand to her heart, and breathed in shakily. She imagined pulling her left hand up to her face, to hide her shame…but it was no longer there. Her left arm was gone, taken from her to spare her life. 

No one had spoken to her about it, acknowledged it. Instead it felt she had been left to be forgotten. Poor Inquisitor losing her love, her arm, her mind.

Cullen stepped slightly closer to her, careful in how he tread with her. She closed her eyes for a moment until she was ready to confront him and all her loss. When she opened her eyes to meet his gaze, he continued. “I want to help you in combat. I want to help with your movements, so that you can continue to be a force in any battle, slaying any foe that falls before you.” His eyes, while careful, exuded confidence in her. He watched many expressions fall on her face, until there was resolve. She nodded, and he continued. “Now, let’s trade my sword for your staff.” She paused briefly, before grabbing the staff strapped to her back. She extended the staff to Cullen, as he traded his sword to her.

“I want you to find balance within yourself, and within whatever weapon you have at your disposal.” Cullen announced. That seemed reasonable. “I’d like to train with you alone, daily if possible, to build your agility.” Cullen noticed she was no longer looking down or away. Perhaps this was what she needed to find that spark again. “What do you think Inquisitor?” He raised his eyebrows, awaiting her response.

“Let’s get started, Commander,” she replied, with more bravado than he had heard in weeks.

~

The two met almost every day for several weeks in quiet as she built her confidence. It did not take long for the Inquisitor to find her voice and tap into her warrior spirit. Although a rift mage, Cullen was impressed with her flexibility to learn combat with great swords, daggers, shields, and her staff. She was learning to find her footing and the balance points of different weapon lengths and weights. She was impressive, and rivaled many of the warriors Cullen had trained and worked with as a Templar or as Commander.

Currently, the two were running scenarios with a dagger as her weapon, and Cullen equipped with his sword and shield. She was getting harder to defeat, in part to her learning from mistakes and falls very quickly. Cullen was bracing for her impact in front of him and she readied her dagger, but she sunk and spun around him gracefully, her dagger against his back and ready to sink the dagger through to his heart. He felt the point of her dagger against his armor, and her breath quiet and warm, against his neck. He paused and waited until she sheathed her dagger before turning around. “It’s good to have you back, Inquisitor.”

She looked at him as he congratulated her, but then looked away briefly before unsheathing her dagger. “Again!” She yelled, not satisfied with her gains just yet. Cullen followed suit, no longer holding back his strength against her. She was ready, and she was back.


	5. Dareth Shiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 of Dwell Within  
> Day 21 of Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020: Halla
> 
> This work references Tevinter Nights.
> 
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Mara sat up and caught the pillow thrown to her. She smiled at his playfulness, then sighed, bringing the pillow to her chest to hug it. _Where do we start?_ She wondered, looking up to the beautiful man before her, still under the covers, propped up and leaning back against the many pillows in her bed. After their cat and mouse game over the years, he never allowed her to catch him, and finally he had conceded and found her, in the middle of the night in the bedchamber of the present Inquisition stronghold. He had kneeled before her, bowing his head, asking her to take him. In that moment he had cast aside his pride and allowed her to see him fully. 

But how do you change events and calls already in motion? How do you share with someone the schematics planned for millennia? Where do you begin and where do you stop, for the sake of one another and their followers?

She leaned in to him smiling and kissing him before getting up from the bed. She was bare and her skin dewy from making love to him. Her hair was still a little wet from bathing earlier, just before Solas arrived in her chamber. She walked over to a dresser where she kept a metal pitcher with ice water, and poured a glass. She walked back over to the bed, handing Solas the glass before joining him in the bed again. He took the glass and drank a swig before setting in down on the bedside table to his right. He patted the spot next to him on his left, waiting her to join him. She crawled forward beside him, nuzzling into the nook in his neck, his arm falling around the small of her waist. She let out a breath and started.

“I know we can’t possibly share everything tonight, and I don’t know what it means about your plans, but I want to share some ideas I’ve been thinking of, and things that I’ve put in place, in hopes that… that there may be a different path.” Mara remained quiet in case he had objections or comments, but he too was quiet, listening. His weight shifted a little under her head.

“I understand wanting to bring down the veil.” He tightened as she spoke, then relaxed some in anticipation of her continuing words. “And I agree with restoring magic to the elves, and I want to prepare this world for that.”

Solas opened his mouth, honestly in surprise. He had anticipated that she had tried hunting him over the years to stop him. It never occurred to him that this would be something she would ever agree to. He closed his mouth, then nuzzled his head to hers, asking her to continue.

“I don’t know if destruction is the only means to go about this.” He sucked in a sharp breath in her ear, pausing her from continuing. She knew this was his hook for millennia. This was the plan and the only plan. She was quiet for a moment, then many of her ideas spilled forward.

“Does the veil have to drop all at once, or could it be controlled? The Elvhen artificats that we activated years ago, could they be deactivated within our control, weakening the veil in phases until completely lifted?”

“You’ve said that spirits react to the environment and the expectations we place on them. What if we staggered peaceful welcomers at points where the veil drops first? Could we prevent the corruption of spirits?”

“...And when we closed the breaches across Ferelden and Orlais, only corrupted spirits passed through? Is that because Corypheus and the Nightmare controlled them?... Do you have sway over the spirits and demons?” Her voice grew quiet. She had more ideas, but she was afraid she sounded too idealistic. She took a deep breath, steadying herself with her actions and less about speculation.

“I have been working with Divine Victoria to update the constitutions of nobility and nations to amend portions of treatment and protections for current and future refugees. And I have accumulated holdings and lands across Thedas, and secured many alliances promising protection to the displaced. I have allies ready to protect and defend from invasion.” At this, she stopped. While the contacts and alliances she has made in her time should be impressive for any one person, she recognized that it fell short in comparison to a feared, ancient figure spanning armies of many followers. She was not the Dread Wolf. And yet all of her actions had been to secure his goals, without her knowing much of his plans. 

He let out a sigh, and kissed her temple. He took her right hand in his left and laced their fingers. “Your heart is pure, Vhenan.” They both remained quiet for a few minutes. In a few hours, the sun would rise and she would have to start her trek to the meet the Fifth Talon of the Antivan Crows. There was much to do on the journey ahead. In the silence she began to feel her exhaustion, sleep was calling to her.

She cleared her throat before continuing. “I know you’ll have to leave soon, but… could you hold me until I fall asleep?” She felt his lips form into a smile at her temple.

“Of course Vhenan,” he whispered with warmth. They both sunk under the covers, turning to their left side. She scooted back, snuggled close to him, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in closer, lacing their fingers. He rested his head against the back of her neck, his lips kissing her skin softly. “I will think about what you have shared with me. And when it is safe for me to come to you, I will send you a halla.”

She nodded sleepily, feeling safe for the first time in years. “I love you,” she whispered, her last words before falling asleep.

Solas remained for a few moments, breathing her in. Her skin smelled sweet, her hair a bouquet of floral scent. With his free hand, he ran his fingers through her long dirty blonde hair. She was exquisite and fearless. He admired her hope of freeing and saving the world. He doubted it would be so simple, but blindly continuing in his ways would only bring destruction. Perhaps there was another way. He would keep his promise to consider what she had shared. He hoped to have more to contribute the next time they would meet.

He pulled her in closer as she stirred a little. He placed his lips on her skin just below her ear and kissed her tenderly. “Dareth shiral,” he whispered, before slipping out of her bed and into the night.

~  
  
Mara awoke alone, just after daybreak. The red sunlight pierced through the window, giving her chambers a haze. She sat up and looked over to his side of the bed. Although he had tucked the covers back, the duvet was a little wrinkled. She brought her hand up to her face, closing her eyes, remembering the feel of him against her. She brushed her thumb over her lips, recalling sinking into him thoroughly. _It was real_. She stayed in this daze for a short moment.

She pulled the covers from her body, then stepped out of the bed. She grabbed her silk robe from the floor—the robe than had fallen off her body as he she knelt with him, embracing for the first time in 13 months. She shook her head. If the memories kept flooding back to her, she would never get ready and accomplish the day’s itinerary.

She set the robe on a hook by the bathroom, turning on the water to the shower. She only had time for a quick rinse but she couldn’t allow the salt on her skin to linger. As she stepped into the shower, she began reviewing her preparations for the day. She ran the soap over her body and doused shampoo in her hair, recalling her contact for today. She was to meet Senor Viago De Riva of the Antivan Crows, who had been the 5th Talon. She recently learned 4 of the 8 core Talons were slain during a summit in Antiva City. The Talons were to discuss their agreement and strategy against the invading Qunari in Antiva. Unfortunately, the Qunari had bribed one of the Talons, with promises of security during the invasion, to slay his fellow Talons. Viago was now the second most senior Talon, and had agreed to meet the Inquisitor at a location to his discretion.

She rung her hair before stepping out of the shower, then wrapped herself in her robe. She combed her hair, then braided her hair into a fishtail braid to one side. Once she was dry, she pulled on her day’s clothes, packed her bag, then carried her staff and set out from her chambers. She walked through the corridors to the dining hall, wanting to grab a few things for the road. She was met by Cullen, who appeared heightened for the early morning.

“Morning Commander,” she stated while filling her water pack for the day’s travels. She then grabbed a few pieces of fruit and placed them in her pack. She looked to Cullen after he had been quite for a moment. “Let’s review today’s agenda, Commander?” she asked, her voice lilting at the end, eyeing him.

After a pause, he nodded. “Yes, good morning Inquisitor. Let’s discuss recent events.” He sat down at one of the long dining hall tables, Mara sat across from him, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Did I see Cole last night?” He asked, almost as if it were a leading question.

Mara drank a sip of her coffee before replying. “Yes, he stopped by briefly.” She looked to him, but he was avoiding her gaze.

He remained quiet for almost a minute. Mara took this time to drink the remainder of her coffee. “I saw the letter left on my desk, and the accompanying report. From Charter.”

_There it is_. She thought. Of course this would be something to discuss. The Dread Wolf had easily evaded all contact and pursuits of the Inquisition and its allies. And now he attended a meeting set up by the Inquisition and killed all in attendance but the Inquisition spy. There was enough speculation there to gossip and round for days, weeks perhaps.

“Are you…” Cullen paused and cleared his voice before continuing, speaking in a quiet, low voice “Are you alright?” He asked, meeting her gaze and searching her face. 

She imagined he was asking as a friend. When Solas confirmed he was Fen’Harel, Cullen had been there to help her rally, training with her to strengthen her balance and agility with different weapons. He had pulled her from the wreckage and prison of her mind.

“I’m alright,” she stated, being careful not to sound too confident or too weak. He needn’t know that Solas came to her last night, or that they had reunited. 

Cullen searched her face again and doubted her, but he didn’t want her to know that. She didn’t know he had come to her door, pacing the corridor and wondering how to proceed. She didn’t know that he had done this on several occasions, wanting to knock on her door, but never having the words. Last night he had mustered up his courage after reading Charter’s letter. His hand only milliseconds from knocking when he was met suddenly by Cole.

“Her hurt is too much,” Cole pleaded, his voice in anguish, before disappearing as quickly as he came.

Mara took this lull as cue to proceed with the day’s agenda. “I’m leaving shortly to meet our contact, Senor Viago De Riva.” She began. “As you know, Antiva is on the brink of a Qunari invasion. The Qunari promised safety to a Talon amidst the invasion, who then slayed half of their brethren. Viago is the second most senior Talon and has agreed to meet with me—just me—to discuss a possible alliance and sharing of resources.” She noticed Cullen’s mouth had opened when she specified she would be meeting him alone.

“Alone? He’s one of the most celebrated assassins and could kill you as quickly or how excruciatingly as he wanted.” Cullen’s voice had raised from the whisper it was earlier.

“He’s also quite particular and has his quirks, according to his fellow Talon, Teia Cantori.” Cullen didn’t look relieved with this defense. “Back before we defeated Corypheus, the Antivan Crows and the Inquisition worked together, sharing some information and resources. I will be asking that again and I feel perfectly safe making that request.” She stared him down confidently, then softened her voice. “As such, if you do not hear from me by 18:00 tonight, you may open this envelope for the address of our meeting.”

He searched her eyes for any trace of uncertainty. He found none. He sighed, begrudgingly. “And I will have every spy, warrior, and ally storming the location promptly at 18:01,” he stated, half joking. There was a seriousness to his eyes. After all she had been through and the world still to save, it would be an untimely demise to be snuffed out by a picky assassin.

“I’ll be safe,” she gave a small smile, trying to reassure him. She didn’t suppose it worked, but he gave a small smile back and nodded. At that, she got up from the table, gathered her things, then headed outside to start her trek.


	6. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 of Dwell Within  
> Day 22 of Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020: Crestwood  
> References made to the chapter Eight Little Talons from Tevinter Nights.
> 
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Mara set out trekking southwest. From her estimations, the journey would be between 3 and 4 hours. She couldn’t remember the last time she went out on assignment without anyone. A party of two was a minimum, but often it was four or more companions. Depending on the group, sometimes the journey was longer, sometimes louder from pranks and laughter, sometimes cold from uncertainty. She breathed in the cool, morning air and she walked just north of a forest, the green grass soft and plush beneath her feet. It was a beautiful morning to be out alone and take it all in. Today she chose to enjoy it, the journey feeling similar to past hikes with her clan.

Mara was the sole survivor of the Lavellan clan. Her clan had been wiped out from fear and bigotry, just when some of the humans had decided to give them a chance. The nobles feared in retaliation, slaughtering those she grew up with. It was a strange feeling to be trained as First to the Keeper, and now the last remaining of her clan. Perhaps if the elves on the other side were freed, she could be a part of their homecoming, but she was unsure if they would trust her, or even relate to her. It had been thousands of years since they were isolated. They might not see themselves in her.

Mara sighed, as the ground became rockier and the path steeper. There were so many unknowns. Even speculating felt unfair, but it was just her alone with her thoughts over the next couple of hours. She hadn’t let herself think too far into the future—it would be too easy to revel in an idea that could never come true. But now… she was thinking.

_What if… what if the veil came down, as peacefully as possible? The Freed were given lands acquired by the Inquisition? Communities came together and instead of fear, embraced the ancient Elvhen? The Chantry would forbid enslavement and the Inquisition could act as a peace-keeping force._

_And what about magic? How would it change Thedas? Would spirits roam freely, like the spirit she guided in Crestwood? How would we teach people to engage and act with the spirits? How could we prevent the capture, enslavement, and corruption of spirits for self-serving purposes?_

_Would the lifespan of current Elves increase? Would Elves become immortal, or only future elves born? Would there be a disparity in magic from the ancient Elvhen to the current elves?...And what about Solas? Is he immortal? And would she live forever… or would she only have the current lifespan to be with him?_

She stopped herself. Ruminating will not help. It was time to change directions and turn south into the forest. It had started to rain, and the forest air was damp but cool. She pulled the hood from her cloak over her, and continued walking, not allowing herself to spiral again.

She had spent too little attention to her environment. Cullen would not have been happy. She began to focus on her surroundings and the sounds. It would have been all too easy to track her through the wilderness, her thoughts elsewhere. She peered through the forest, the vegetation thick. The ground was muddy, which didn’t help the stark incline for the remainder of the hike.

She tread carefully and quietly as possible, using her staff to help stabilize her over some steep climbs. She saw the outline of a cabin about 500 feet up from her. She noted a discrete pathway and followed it until she was about 50 feet from the front of the cabin. She safely assumed she was being watched, or had at least tripped some protective barriers to alert her presence. She made it up to the door and waited a second, before lifting her hand to knock.

After knocking, she let down her hood as the door cautiously opened. A tall and slender man opened the door, looking serious in a dark samite outfit. He appeared intense. “Senor De Riva?” she asked, with a small but kind smile. He paused for a moment, looking her over. Her cloak had seen a lot of rain and her skin was dewy. Her blonde hair, long and braided, and mostly intact. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, awaiting his answer.

“Lady Inquisitor,” he stated with a slow and measured voice, almost as if there was a question mark at the end. He was not expecting someone so young and smiling at his doorstep. Surely she had sent a messenger or a decoy. He still stood in the doorway, looking past her and scanning the front escape. 

“I followed your instructions. It is just I.” She paused, and he stepped back from the door, opening it further for her.

“Come in,” he directed, as she gracefully walked through. “You may set your cloak on the coat rack just there,” he pointed behind her. His brow furrowed as he was cautious, watching her movements.

“Thank you,” she smiled again, politely with warmth. She was cautious too, but the previous arrangement between the Crows and the Inquisition made her more hopeful of a positive discord. She shed her cloak, placing it as instructed, while maintaining him in her view. The cabin, moderately sized, was immaculate. She sensed that his sense of order was part of his quirks Teia had warned her about.

“I left an envelope with my Commander with our location, only to be open if he does not hear from me.” She paused. “He insisted on coming, but with the Inquisition’s past cooperation with the Crows, I found it unnecessary.” She smiled. “And I sealed the envelope with magic, so he really couldn’t open it if he tried.” She smiled again and her eyes twinkled, trying to curb some of the seriousness Viago displayed. She chose to continue to be kind and cautious until given a reason.

Viago was a good looking man, lean and agile. His expression was intense but she figured his features softened some in the right company. She noted the cane held in his right hand, supposedly full of toxins and antivenins ready in a moment’s notice. He watched her as much as she was watching him.

He was beginning to believe it was the Inquisitor—a blonde elf mage with no Vallaslin, young, and experience in trekking. “Have a seat,” he stated, moving to the open living room with seating in excellent condition, ornate even. He chose an accent chair, opposite from any other available chair. She took a seat on the leather sofa, wondering if he would start first. 

“It is my understanding you had arranged this meeting through Ms. Cantori,” Viago started and paused.

“Yes,” Mara agreed. “Ms. Cantori was my main contact a couple of years ago.”

“Back when the Inquisition rallied against the false god, Corypheus?” Viago asked.

The questions felt relentless but Mara played along. “Yes. I believe our first contact was Ghita, requesting the Inquisition’s information for a contract on Lord Enzo”. Mara had reviewed all previous contacts with the Antivan Crows before coming today. “The capturing of Lord Enzo also ended in the deaths of several Venatori agents.” Mara completed, watching his face.

Viago titled his head slightly, squinting a little. He paused before continuing. “That is correct.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the accent chair. “And today you come to…?”

Mara lifted her head. “To offer the Inquisition as a resource to the Talons.” Mara thought carefully about the next part, not wanting for it to come off threatening. “I am sorry to hear about your fellow Talons.” Her voice was genuine, and her eyes kind. “It is my understanding that the Qunari were ultimately to blame—fear mongering—and are planning to invade Antiva. I want to offer the Inquisition in how you see need—knowledge, connections, spies, warriors.” Mara stopped as Viago’s expression was a mix between annoyed and bewildered. “We share a target.” That was the language from the original letter sent from the Crows to the Inquisition.

Viago was quite for several minutes, mixtures of pride, insults, and despise flashed through his eyes until he had settled on serious. He swallowed, and his face softened minutely. He let out a breath before replying. “While the remaining houses of the Crows do offer us a number of spies and connections, it would not be right to allow pride to be a barrier in keeping the Qunari invasion at bay in Antiva… What are you asking for in exchange?” His eyes became sharp again. She had the feeling assassins were more of a tit for tat society.

She shook her head. “No pretense. If you deem information fitting to pass along, that is your discretion.” Mara paused as Viago was eerily still. “Perhaps a professional courtesy if there is a contract over my head?” She smiled again, hoping he knew she was joking.

Viago was confused by her demeanor. She was stunning, and yet not flashy, overtly manipulative, coy, or flirtatious. _Perhaps that’s just Teia and not all young, beautiful women._ He thought. She was kind though, and had a quiet strength about her. 

He sighed and nodded, looking out the window across from them. A dark storm had developed since starting their conversation, thunder rumbling and lightning flashing threateningly. Mara followed his gaze. It wouldn’t be the first time she had hiked through a storm like this. 

“You can stay until the storm passes,” Viago offered. “If you don’t mind answering some of my questions.” His face had softened some. He stood up promptly. “Would you like something to drink?” He asked, awaiting her response.

“Yes, thank you” she enthused, beaming a smile to him. The cabin had an open layout, so she could see the kitchen from her chair, and Viago could watch her as well. Mutual caution, but she was glad he had softened. She remained quiet and watched Viago as he moved about the kitchen, effortlessly. She wondered if he was a good cook, and she wondered if he had someone he cooked for. She smiled at the thought of that. He was so serious and wondered if he had found his counterpart to unwind him.

He brought over two cups of tea, and a small assortment of packaged goods. “Thank you,” she responded, as he handed her the mug. She noticed he was still wearing gloves and wondered if that was another quirk. “So,” Viago sat down at his chair, setting down his mug on a marble coaster at the coffee table before them. “I’ve heard many tall tales about you. I wonder if any of them are true.”

She pursed her lips then smiled. “Ask away,” she said, taking a swig of the tea. It was sweet and floral. That surprised her.

“There’s a story going around about the Inquisitor falling out of the sky and into the Fade, just as a dragon was on her heels.” He raised his eyebrows. “True?”

“Yes.” Mara nodded. “I’ve also fallen out of the sky _from_ the Fade.” She paused. “That was the first time.”

Viago tilted his head, amused. “You’ve also slain dragons?”

Mara nodded again. “Only if absolutely necessary.”

“There are also stories about you surviving an avalanche, walking through the snow until you found your camp.”

“Yes,” she nodded again. “That was the first time I met Corypheus. The avalanche was caused from the trebuchets I launched at Corypheus, to give the townspeople of Haven an opportunity to escape.”

He was surprised. She had lived up to her name. _And she isn’t even 30 years old_. “I’m impressed, Lady Inquisitor. I don’t say that often.”

She smiled and looked down. It was hard to receive praise when each of those moments had been excruciating and were never something she had asked for. She looked back up at him. He was warmer now. She shifted in her seat. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from such an esteemed assassin.” She was genuine in her compliment. It felt like it was sheer dumb luck to keep finding herself in such unique situations, not having the exclusive training and choice for her role as Inquisitor. She admired those with a craft and dedication. “Is it true you are a master with poisons and antivenins?” She raised her eyebrow, wanting to direct the conversation to him.

He lifted his head and gave the smallest smile. “You could say that.”

Mara thought of more questions, and the two exchanged professional stories for about an hour until the worst of the storm subsided. They also swapped details of how to best contact the other going forward in their association.

The two looked out the window when the storm passed. She took it as her cue to leave and stood. “Thank you for having me Senor De Riva.” She reached for her cloak and began to pack up.

“It was a pleasure, Lady Inquisitor.” He paused, standing, then went over to a table, returning to her after a few seconds. “You have an incredible knack for precarious situations. Consider this a gift in the unfortunate event you need this. This is extremely rare, and will heal most wounds even at the brink of death.” He handed her a vial. She was confused and amazed and placed the vial within her pack.

“Thank you,” she was breathless. She extended her hand to shake his, and then remembered his gloves. She almost pulled her hand back when he took her hand in his, leaned forward, and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “Safe travels to you.”

Mara nodded, puzzled at how well the exchange had gone. “And to you as well. Dareth Shiral” She gave a last smile, before walking through the door to head back, pulling the hood of her cloak over her as the rain slowed to a drizzle.

~

On the way back to the stronghold, Mara took a different route, advancing further through the forest. She had a few hours to spare before she told Cullen she would be back and wanted to make the most of the time alone. The further away she was to the everyday reality, the easier it was to believe she could continue on her way. She told only her core companions that their mission was to prepare for a world in which the veil fell, and to mitigate destruction over the world. How long could she go without accidentally alluding to the fact that she was now back in contact with Solas? How long could she go without someone tripping over themselves? Would her companions pick up on her body language? It hadn’t even been 24 hours and Mara felt anxious about how to proceed. She and Solas hadn’t even exchanged ideas or settled plans. 

_Would Solas even change his course?_

The foliage in the forest had changed as she made her descent in the elevation. The rain had stopped, but the air was still humid and cool. She made her way into a clearing, hearing the sound of moving water. She looked around, and found herself at the base of a waterfall. Her stomach tightened as she caught her breath. She associated waterfalls with despair and confusion. Even when trekking with the Inquisition, her stomach had knotted, panic coursing through her whenever they had passed by a waterfall. Waterfalls were no longer beautiful, calming, or serene.

Mara closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Waterfalls should not be a symbol of pain. She opened her eyes and knew what she had to do. She pulled off her pack and sat down on a mossy boulder before the waterfall. If she could walk alone to meet a highly celebrated assassin, she could brave her deepest fears.

This was not the same as the waterfall in Crestwood. This one had a louder roar and frothed as the fall met the river coursing below.

Her eyes followed the course of the river, from above, plummeting to the depths below, roaring in change, but ultimately continuing on its way.

She was afraid he would change his mind, that he regretted loving her, that he would regret finding her now. She was afraid of falling again. Plummeting. Capsized. Imprisoned in her shattered heart.

Maybe she would continue on after falling, as the river continues and winds to other destinations. Or maybe this would be what did her in. Not the Breach, nor dragons, nor Corypheus, nor darkspawn, nor armies, nor assassins, nor any future threats.

It would be the love of a man never seeing her as his equal.

“But these are just fears.” She said aloud to herself and to the waterfall. “They are not real.”

Last night Solas had approached her with such vulnerability, unlike she had ever seen with him. He had held her gaze with such tenderness and sorrow. He had held her heart with such care. He enveloped her so willingly, and she had met him with equal measure.

“Solas is enough without the Dread Wolf. And I…” her voice shook but she continued. “I am enough.”  
Mara let out a heavy breath, feeling weight lift from her chest and shoulders. After you carry fear for so long, you forget what it’s like to be freed.

Mara grabbed her pack and stood up, ready to trek back to the Inquisition.

She made it back to the stronghold, just before dark. As she walked through the lands she found Cullen in the practice field with a dummy, alone. He appeared to be practicing a new technique. She made her way over to the field, raising her hand to wave. “I’m back Commander.” She yelled, he was about 50 feet into the field. She paused and waited and she watched him sheath the greatsword, jogging over to her. 

“Just under the wire I see,” Cullen’s face scanned her body, looking for signs of a squabble or fight. Blood, scratches, slashes or tears. There were none. His eyes scanned back to her face.

“With two hours to spare, Commander.” Mara corrected him, reassuring him. He appeared awfully worried today.

“You must be freezing. Let’s get you inside,” he ushered, leading her to the door of the main hall.

 _Huh,_ she thought. Perhaps he’s worried she would crack after reading Charter’s letter and accompanying report? Too late. Already happened with Cole just before Solas’ arrival. And the waterfall today.

Mara followed him into the dining hall. The smells were delicious. It appears a roast was made this evening with a handful of colorful vegetables. The aroma of dinner made her realize she had barely eaten today, only nibbling on a few snacks while at Viago’s cabin earlier.

She made herself a plate, Cullen following her, and the two resumed their spots from breakfast earlier. He hadn’t made a plate or gathered anything to drink. His fingers strummed the table anxiously.

“The meeting with Senor De Riva went well,” she started. Cullen paused his tapping waiting for her to speak again. “He is a serious man. Cautious. And really does carry poisons in his cane wherever he goes.” She paused, taking a bite out of a roasted carrot. Cullen’s face became bewildered, wondering if she had been poisoned to come to that knowledge. “And… he’s our ally.” She ended and looked up at him.

“Just like that?” Cullen resumed his strumming.

Mara nodded, taking a bite out of her roast. It was savory, tender, and everything she needed right now.

Cullen cocked his head, a flurry of emotions passing over his face. Questioning, careful, then amused. He chuckled to himself. “You sure can sweet talk any deal.”

Mara gulped, not knowing how to respond. She finished her plate a little more quickly. She stood up when done. “If you’ll excuse me Commander, I’m going to bed. I didn’t catch much sleep last night.” His eyes turned to concern, but then agreed.

“Goodnight Inquisitor,” Cullen muttered curtly as she walked away to her corridor.

~

An hour after Mara left, Viago left the cabin in the mountain, trekking back towards Antiva City. He made it in decent time, and found his way to Teia’s townhome. He knocked, knowing she was awaiting his news of his meeting with the Inquisitor.

“So…how was she?” Teia asked, coyly, fluttering around Viago and helping him take off his cloak. When it was removed, she kept her hands on him, trailing her fingers on his chest. “Holier than thou and walks on water? Sent from Andraste herself?” Teia turned up her nose, placing a finger on his jaw line.

Viago looked down at her, expecting a little back and forth. It was their game. “She was charming, and beautiful,” He watched Teia’s brows furrow into a scowl. “And all the stories are true. Has a recurring problem of falling into and out of the Fade though.” Viago watched as jealousy flittered through Teia’s eyes.

Teia humphed and turned around with a sway of her hips, arms crossed. Viago stepped forward, placing his arm around the small of her waist, and pulled her closer to him firmly. Teia let out a playful gasp, stood in front of him, her waistline swaying against his body.

Viago nuzzled his face to her neck, his lips grazing her ear. “She was kind, but not tantalizing.” Viago ran his hands down her arms then to her waist, spinning her around to him so that they faced another one.

Teia let out a measured, heavy breath, puffing it in Viago’s face. _Maker’s breath._ Viago thought, his eyes roaming over her eyes, her lips, and her body. This game only had one ending and he would play it every time. He would have to tell Teia about the rest of the visit in the morning and their new alliance with the Inquisition.


	7. Possess Her Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 of Dwell Within  
> Day 23 of the Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020: The Rift
> 
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Mara awoke alone the next morning, and the three weeks following. Business had carried on as usual, forging new allies and chasing down leads into the idol to no avail. Three weeks ago Solas had told her he would send a halla when it was safe for them to meet again. She kept her eyes peeled for the search of any movement when traversing the outdoors. Any flutter of movement was inevitably caused by druffalo, or bears, or nugs, or ox. Never halla.  
Even when she dreamed she hadn’t come across halla. Solas’ statement was ambiguous enough that she wasn’t sure to anticipate halla in Thedas, in the Fade or dreams, or symbolically.

  
He had been alive for eight millennia—what’s a few weeks in comparison? But to her, as mortal, as facing doom and peril any day, it had felt like an eternity. Always anticipating his presence, longing to see him and feel him—for his touch on her lips, the expanse on her skin, and within her. Each touch of his electrified her skin. He intuitively overwhelmed and pleased every inch of her, giving himself passionately for her pleasure. While keen to devour her, entangled and intertwined with one another, love was the root and it was felt in every sigh, every kiss, every rise, every release, and each hold as they remained wrapped up within one another as they slept. He was the very love of her life—a lifetime she begged to have with him as immortal should the veil fall.

Today a portion of the Inquisition traveled northwest to the outskirts of the Arlathan forest to scout for elven clans. In preparation of a world with the veil fallen, Mara had set out to meet with known elven clans and to scout for hidden clans. She had asked to speak with each clan’s Keeper, as she was First to the Keeper to clan Lavellan. A clan of one remaining.  
Although much of the Inquisition thought of the journeys as diplomatic campaigns, her endeavors were moreso aligned as a crusade. As she got to know each Keeper and gain their trust, she asked that if the veil were to fall, if they would help the changed world transition peacefully. And to offer to be a Keeper for the freed elves if they wished, to help rehabilitate and guide the changed world. It was a monumental request, and each Keeper met her with their own combination of disbelief until they realized the seriousness of her eyes. Mara had told each Keeper to think on it, and that she would be back to visit in the future. They had all wished her safe travels.

The smaller group of the Inquisition had traveled for about 12 hours and she could tell they were tired as the grumbles increased. It had been an uncharacteristically warm day as they traveled, the sun beating down on them without mercy. Further ahead was a grove of trees offering some shade alongside a smaller river.

“Let’s set up camp there,” she pointed as she turned around to address the group. The group nodded silently, relieved to see some shade ahead and to set down their packs.  
Cullen had joined her on this trip. In the past year, he tried to join at least one envoy a month. He said he had spent too many years trapped behind a desk or being show ponied to some dignitary. She didn’t mind, understanding the relief and enjoyment in the great outdoors.  
He had eased up on her the past few weeks. No more ‘ _are you alright’?_ Perhaps he was beginning to believe she was okay after all, combined with no further confirmed spottings or communications of the Dread Wolf.

  
As the group set up camp and assembled the tents, Mara walked around the area and began forming barriers along the perimeter. It was considerably cooler under the trees, but it was still warm and humid. Her neck felt sticky and she was imagining changing into cooler clothes once her tent was set up. She eyed the creek and thought about how it would feel to remove her clothes and wade in the cold, crisp water. No chance of that. As she walked back to the camp, she waved her right arm around in a counter-clockwise circle in front of her for a few rotations, gathering magic from the fade within her fingers, then lifted her wrist and pushed a cold front of air into the camp, lowering the temperature in the air considerably and providing relief for her comrades.

  
“Maker’s Breath, Inquisitor,” Cullen sighed as the cold air rushed over him. The camp echoed in relief with _aaah’s._ She nodded and smiled to the group, then started to set up her tent.

Cullen walked over, helping to secure the wooden poles to the ground then setting the cloth panels. “Let’s review our course for tomorrow?”  
Mara secured the fastenings, then looked up to him. “Yes, give me a few minutes to unpack and I’ll meet you in your tent. Is that okay?”

“Of course Inquisitor,” Cullen nodded, pausing briefly before turning away to join the rest of the camp preparing dinner over the new campfire.

She enjoyed these small moments to herself. What before used to paralyze her finally felt freeing to be left in peace. No matter the envoy, the group prepped for the Inquisitor to have her own tent. She had overheard whisperings of some new recruits afraid to touch her for she was a gift from Andraste herself. They had considered her holy. She had heard another drunken tale in a pub that whoever she touched would also lose their arm. The storyteller hadn’t known she was at the pub, let alone listening, but she was a little amused. The latter was certainly not true but she appreciated the privacy.

  
Mara unstrapped her pack and removed her leathered armor. She began rolling her head, trying to stretch out some of the knots in her neck. Her upper body was more tense than usual from a day’s hike—possibly from the heat. She knelt down to the floor, stretching her shoulders, her lower back, and her legs. She remained in the poses for a few minutes, breathing deeply, clearing her mind, and leaning into the aches along her body.

  
After a while she stood, ready to proceed to the reality of the Arlathan forest. She left her tent and walked over to Cullen’s, ready to discuss tomorrow’s course. “Commander?” She asked, waiting for his acknowledgment.

  
“Come in Inquisitor,” Cullen proceeded, watching her when she entered his tent. He noted she had changed from her leather armor and now wore a billowy white blouse with a plunging neckline, tucked into her leggings. Cullen diverted his eyes from her to the map of Northern Thedas before him. He cleared his throat before continuing.

  
“Since we do not have exact coordinates of this clan, and we do not know much of the forest, there are two approaches. The first, and what I recommend, is to travel northeast, parallel to the forest, and wait until the last possible minute upon entering. The other course would be to travel north. It would be a more direct route, but we would find ourselves in an unknown forest for an increased portion of the journey. For either path, I foresee us leaving some of the group at a camp further ahead. Particularly the non-Elves.” His eyes wandered from the map and back to her, scanning her upper body to her face. “But I must insist on being there.”

  
She tilted her head as she considered his words. Elven clans, let alone lost Elven clans, are not particularly keen to engaging with humans, especially within their lands. “They might fear you,” she answered with measure.

  
“But I would be there to protect us against the forest, and any unforeseen threats. Including the clan.” Cullen protested firmly.

  
“But a human protecting an elf, from other elves… I’m afraid the Keeper will not speak with me. We could sacrifice this whole trip based on their uncertainties to humans, let alone me. My speaking with them is already a huge risk.” Mara kept calm in her answers, but she was worried. He hadn’t been on other missions to connect with Elven clans. This was his first time, and she had assumed he would stay at the base camp. She remained quiet as he mulled over her words.

Why was she so stubborn? What was the point in bringing warriors on their treks if not for the dangers—unknown and known? He was best suited to slay and protect. Why not let him do his job? He admired her leadership as they fought Corypheus--and when she asked he picked up his sword again for her, without question.

  
She bit her lip then looked down. He wasn’t going to let this go tonight. “We can talk more about this tomorrow.” Her voice was quiet and kind. The air felt tense and she hated feeling uncomfortable with him “Was there anything else we needed to discuss?” She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.

  
Cullen remained quiet for a moment, meeting her gaze briefly. His strummed his fingers on the table before them, considering if now was the time. He returned her gaze and searched her face. It was not. “No, that’ll be all Inquisitor.”

  
She nodded curtly and smiled. “I will see you in the morning.” Mara left his tent and walked over to her own, settling in for the evening.  
As she left, Cullen tilted his head back with a heavy sigh and ran his hand through his golden hair. He felt he was at an impasse with her. Each exchange dwindling in words, afraid that tomorrow or the next day they would no longer have anything to say to one another. He had given six years to her. Damned if he let anything happen to her.  
He leaned on the desk, sinking his head. He eyed the middle drawer of the desk then pulled on the handle. The drawer opened to an antiqued silver pendant set among plush blue velvet. There was an unknown inscription, and the pendant was no longer than an inch. The pendant was set on a long, thin silvery chain. He picked up the necklace in his right hand, rubbing his thumb over the insignia. He placed the necklace in his pocket, undressed, then retired for the evening.

  
~

Cullen awoke to a haunting scream a few tents down. It was the middle of the night, the campsite otherwise quiet and almost pitch black. The fire was down to its last embers. He grabbed his sword and sprinted toward the tent, the rest of the party beginning to stir as he was already in motion.

It was _her_ tent.

  
He quickly unzipped the tent, barrowing through to the sounds of her sleeping. His sword drawn, he paused and looked around the tent for the culprit but to no avail. The only shadow was his.

  
She screamed again, piercing and bone chilling. He rushed to her, kneeling to her. There was hardly any light but she was still asleep.

  
“Mara?” He called out to her, placing a hand on her shoulder and tried to wake her. “Mara!” he shook her again, hovering over her.

  
Her eyes flittered open, wide in panic and full of terror. Tears streamed from her eyes from whatever horror she had seen. Her breath was quick and her heart was pounding, and in one fluid motion she grabbed the dagger underneath her and pressed it to Cullen, pointing it directly to his heart, the point of the dagger cutting into his skin.

  
“Mara,” Cullen spoke calmly but with urgency, trying to center her. He had never overheard her having nightmares. He had never heard her screaming in her sleep. “Mara, you were dreaming. Whatever happened, you’re safe. You’re in your bed at the campsite. I’m here.”

  
Cullen overheard the footsteps of the rest of the party. Many eyes were peering into her tent, wondering what had happened. Cullen turned his head, without leaving her side, to give orders to check the barriers and scout the campsite.

Cullen turned back to Mara. She looked petrified and hadn’t moved her hand on her dagger. If anything, her body was more rigid.

  
“Mara,” Cullen whispered warmly, despite the dagger poking into his chest. The hand he had on her shoulder he moved to her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Tears continued to stream down her face, the terror in her eyes was still there, but her gaze shifted to look at his hand.  
Cullen sat at her right side, leaning over to her. He set his sword down and moved both hands to her face, cupping her. He looked directly into her scared and beautiful eyes.

She met his gaze.

  
“You’re safe…. I’m here.” He stared into her, waiting for his message to sink in. He repeated his lines again for a few moments with pauses in between. She met his gaze. The terror in her eyes slowly dissipated, and eventually she relaxed her death grip on the dagger. Cullen took one hand and set the dagger aside, returning his touch to cover her hand.

“You were dreaming.” He stated with gentleness. He allowed the words to sink in.

  
“I was dreaming?” She asked, her voice low and hoarse. Her breaths were still rapid but subsiding.

  
“You screamed in your sleep, and I ran over here.” Cullen explained.

  
“Commander?” One of the party members called from the entrance of her tent. “No sightings, and no tripped barriers.”

“Thank you. Stay on patrol tonight with Gellham. Just in case.” Cullen ordered, turning back to her again.

“Do you remember what happened?” He asked her softly, searching her face.

  
“I was…you’re bleeding!” She exclaimed, a shouted whisper. There was a cry in her voice.

  
Cullen looked down at himself. The dagger had cut into him just below his sternum at an angle—an angle that if she would have been successful would have pierced his heart. It was only a cut. Or a slice.

  
“And you’re…shirtless?” She asked, even more confused.

  
“I was sleeping when you screamed. And you’re… quick with a dagger.” He explained, pulling back from her a little. Mara was still lying flat on her back.

  
“Wait, let me help.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer. She hovered her right hand over his wound on his chest, closing her eyes as she focused on a healing spell. She opened her eyes and the cut had healed, although the blood still remained.

  
Cullen looked at her amazed. She had just awoken from a nightmare and was healing him from her self-inflicted wounds. “Thank you,” he muttered. Her kindness was unreal. He cleared his throat. “You were about to tell me what happened.” He spoke quietly.

  
She nodded, propping herself up on her elbow to sit up some. “I was,” she gulped and drew in a deep breath. “I was being dragged through what looked like hell. Something dark had ahold of my feet and dragged me through a rift…It looked like an underground cemetery. I remember clawing the ground trying to escape its grasp, and when I tried to scream I was silent, its hold on me tightening the more I tried to escape.”

  
Cullen was silent. This might be the time. “Do you mind if I look you over?...Sometimes nightmares can bleed over.”

She tilted her head, squinting, wondering what he had in mind. She nodded, pulling herself to sit up fully. She pulled back her covers with her hand.

  
He nodded back to her before continuing. She was wearing a sleep tunic and shorts. Her skin glistened with a pearl glaze. He looked at her arm, scanned over her stomach, then looked down at her legs. There were no wounds of combat, no bruises from grips.

  
He returned to her side, wanting to do one more test. “Stay there,” he whispered. At an arm’s length, Cullen brought his left hand up to her face, gently holding her in his palm. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He was searching for something. Something that didn’t belong.

  
He was searching for possession, afraid that a demon had taken her.

  
Mara stayed still as instructed, watching him as he put his hand to her face, then searched his face. _What was he looking for?_

  
After a moment Cullen opened his eyes. He sighed with some relief, then pulled an antique silver pendant from his pocket and held it in his hand.  
“What I was searching for I did not find. I did not sense possession, but I sense that something is on your trail.” He stopped, holding up the necklace. “I came across this as my time as a Templar. It is a ward against possession for mages. I’d like for you to wear it.” His tone was grave and there was genuine worry in his voice.

  
Mara looked at the small pendant on the necklace. There was some sort of inscription, probably its name among Templars. Her gaze left the necklace and up to his face. She nodded.

“Do you mind?” Cullen asked, as he leaned toward her.

  
Mara nodded again, and he leaned in closing the gap between him, raising his arms around her neck, his hands behind her head as he placed the necklace to set the clasp. Their faces were no more than two inches apart. Her breath was warm on his face and her hair grazed his shoulders. When the clasp was set, he looked into her eyes, trying to read her thoughts.

Her heart began to pound and Mara was afraid that he would hear it. She was afraid of what he might do, so close before her.

  
His gaze dropped to her lips, slightly parted and he could feel her warm breath on his mouth. _She is so close_. He had wanted this for years. But not like this, not from her just waking from a nightmare. Not some cheap kiss in the middle of the night. He wanted more.

  
Cullen looked into her eyes once more, knowing the wrong moment was passing. “Goodnight.” He whispered, pulling back from her. He picked up his great sword and walked out. Instead of returning to his tent to rest for the night, he joined the night patrol in silence to watch over her.


	8. In Circles (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8  
> Day 24 of Solavellan Hell Art Challenge: Dance
> 
> Named after artist Patrick Watson's song "In Circles".
> 
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_She was distorted. The sight of her was fragmented and blurred. Anything she shouted sounded as though she were underwater._

He had been searching for her for months and hadn’t been able to locate her. It was as if she were shrouded, or hadn’t wanted to be found. Solas dreamt in the Fade to sense where she was—but he couldn’t _feel_ her. In the years leading up to now when Mara had searched from him in the Fade, he could sense her presence as it were a pulse, the temperature in the air rising withina golden glow. He enlisted many spirits in the Fade to search for her, but her presence could not be found.

Every dooming ending ran through his mind. If he couldn’t find her, nor any spirits, did she not want to be found? Had she changed her mind about him, no longer believing in him or his cause?

_Was she...was she dead?_

The Inquisition had been harder to trace in the past few months, evading some of his best spies. He assumed the Inquisition had equipped more magical barriers as they made their way across Thedas.

He left his fortress, determined to search himself by foot. He had to find out for himself if she no longer wanted to be a part of his life...or if she had passed.

Solas followed their lead through Nevarra, keeping a half day’s distance between himself and the party—if she were even with them. He followed the camp as they traveled north toward the Silent Plains.

Between private communiques, he had gathered they were meeting a contact just south of the Imperial Highway. Masters of Fortune had descended upon ancient Elvhen tomes in the Deep Roads, of great interest to himself, the Qunari, Tevinter, and the Inquisition. It appeared the Inquisitor was scheduled to meet with the exploration party that ventured the Deep Roads.

The Inquisition camp had settled about 10 miles northwest of Necropolis at a large farm, dotted with several cottages and a fortress next to a river bank. Based upon what Mara had shared with him four months ago, he assumed they had acquired the land through some treaties. This was another testament of her willpower to acquire resources, wealth, power, and a following. He marveled at her capacity to do so with such a pure heart, unlike anyone he had known before her. Perhaps the closest comparison was Mythal, having demonstrated compassion and grace to others unlike the other Ancient Elven gods.

He watched as some of the party scouted the lands before spelling the land with protections and barriers. He counted around 20 members of the party in the field alone, but so far no sighting of the Inquisitor.

It is possible the Inquisition would have continued, even in her death? What lengths would they take in the event of her death? How long would they continue without her leadership? Perhaps she had instilled hope within the hearts of her followers. She was kind and fearless. You could say many began to worship her, including himself.

Solas scanned the grounds from afar, from across the bank of a river cutting through the land. There were 8 stone cottages among the lands, and one larger, three story fortress closer to the river. He imagined she would be there, of all places. It also posed the greatest risk, assuming the fort would be the most guarded.

He wasn’t worried—about their barriers or protection spells. The magic he possessed could not be easily be matched from a couple of enchantments.

He watched as the patrol moved throughout the lands, and waited until the guards were past the fort—a small window between the next round of patrol.

He placed a silencing spell around him, his movements untraceable and mute. He crossed the river and walked along the side of the fort, keeping close to the wall. Solas looked above, noting that there was only one balcony. He decided that if she would be anywhere, she would be in a room with a view to look out at the expanse around her. Just like Skyhold.

He scanned the front entrance one more time before making his way up the stone steps. The foyer was strangely quiet and he remained cautious with his steps. He looked around and imagined where the location of the room with the balcony should be.

Spirits whispered to him in his mind, and he slipped through a door on his immediate left to a dark, stone staircase. He followed the staircase up three flights of stairs, where a back hallway continued with an option of a door to the main floor access. He continued the back hallway, spirits whispering to him the way to the room with the balcony, until the hall ended in one door, laid in golden filigree. This was the servant’s entrance to the noble’s master bedroom, or that of a noble who no longer owned the lands. He leaned his head forward to the door, listening for any sounds. Either the master bedroom belonged to her for the stay—or to some interim leader of the Inquisition. He could hear fire crackling in the room but no other noises. He steadied himself before placing a hand on the golden door knob, his other hand pressed near the frame.

He turned the door knob, taking a breath as he pushed the door open.

Mara was alive, sitting in a plush velvet arm chair with a book on her lap. Her gaze was on the open balcony, watching and listening to the movement of the river below.

Her head turned when a hidden door opened in silence, letting out a gasp before standing and dropping the book to the chair.

There he was after 4 months, dressed in a dark cloak to obscure himself in his pursuits.

“Solas,” she whispered in disbelief. She didn’t move closer to him just yet. She had awaited the sighting of a Halla, as per his instructions. He told her he would send a Halla when it was safe for them to meet again. That was months ago.

To him she was distorted. The sight of her was fragmented and blurred within a haze of the glow from the fireplace. When she opened her mouth, she sounded as though she were underwater.

“Vhenan,” he responded, not knowing her first words. He took two steps forward to her. “You...I can’t hear you. And your presence is distorted. It’s warped.” His brow furrowed, his mouth gaped. “I thought you were dead,” he whispered, agony laced in his voice.

Mara stepped forward and shook her head. She clearly saw him and heard him. It made no sense. “I thought you had changed your mind,” she whispered.

Her movements were blurred in a haze, her voice permeating from underwater.

“Vhenan, I can’t hear what you’re saying.” He looked at her the best he could, wondering what curse or enchantment was distorting her, hiding herself from him.

Although unclear, he saw the dark lines of a necklace draped on her neck. Where he saw the necklace is where the visual morphed and bent reality. “What are you wearing?” He asked, pointing to his own chest.

Mara looked down at herself, an antique silver pendant draped down her chest. She looked back at Solas, then down to her pendant. With her right hand, she removed the necklace and set it on the mantle of the fireplace.

As soon as the pendant was no longer on her body, she came into full view, no longer blurred or warped from its magic.

Solas closed the gap between, firmly wrapping his arms around her, nuzzling his face in her hair. “I thought you were dead. I could not find you or sense you or feel you. I haven’t been able to for months.” He pulled back enough so that he could see her face, still holding her close to him as they stood next to the fireplace.

“I thought you had changed your mind,” she whispered, looking away then slowly back to him.

Solas gulped and shook his head, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of her hand. “No, my heart. I’ve been trying to find you.” He looked into her worried eyes, the hurt cutting through him. With his free hand he touched her face, cupping her cheek. He leaned in, kissing her forehead with tenderness. “What were you wearing?” He asked again, meeting her eyes.

She cleared her throat. “A pendant... a few months ago at a campsite, I began screaming in my sleep. Cullen rushed in and woke me. He said I was not possessed by a demon—but that one was following me.” She became quiet, remembering the nightmare. “He asked me to wear the pendant, a Templar ward to protect me from possession.” She stopped and watched Solas’ face flurry with a wide range of emotions.

He shook his head in anger. “That wasn’t just a ward for possession.” He looked over to the pendant, careful not to touch it. There was an ancient Tevinter inscription. “That pendant... I haven’t seen one like it in ages. It acts as a cloak, so that the wearer can not be found by the Fade.”

Mara tilted her head. “But I’ve been able to use magic. I can still draw from the Fade.”

Solas was quiet for a moment. “...Have you seen Cole since wearing the pendant?”

Mara thought back. The last time she had seen Cole was the day she saw Solas. Mara shook her head, looking up to Solas. She was silent.

Solas took a step back as pieces came to him, his brow furrowing. “He anticipated that I would try to find you.” Solas let out, quietly and more measured for someone who was angry. “He wanted to hide you from me.” He crossed his arms across his front, widening his stance. “And he guessed I would seek you after the meeting with Charter.”

Mara interjected, uncertain. “He may not have known the full extent as to what it did.” She wanted to think that Cullen wouldn’t have it in him for such deception. He was a reformed Lyrium addict who had helped other Templars break their Lyrium chain. He had given 6 years to the Inquisition. He was the golden boy and the do-gooder.

Solas raised his eyebrows, his eyes darkening. “Is he in love with you?”

Mara opened her mouth, surprised at the question. She closed her eyes and shook her head, huffing in disbelief. He had been close to her, especially the night of her nightmares, but he had never told her.

“I don’t... I don’t know.” She muttered, looking up to Solas, her heart heavy and sinking into her stomach. If he did care for her that way, she did not share his feelings.

“I don’t, though.” She whispered to Solas, her eyes wide with sadness. She stepped forward to him, eliminating the space between. She placed her hand on his chest over his heart, feeling his heart start to race with her touch. She pulled up to him, kissing him softly, lingering, waiting for him to move. Solas was tense, but her touch softened him.

Solas snaked his right arm around her waist, pulling her in closer to him, kissing her back thoroughly. He was relieved she wasn’t dead, relieved that she hadn’t changed her mind. In addition to the world not in their favor, her Commander had placed himself in their way.

It was frivolous in comparison, but it angered Solas, wanting to revolt against him. But Cullen was just a man with some strength and little power.

Mara tightened her hold against him, beginning to sway with him, the rhythm aligned with the magic buzzing within and around her.

Solas took her right hand, lacing their fingers, with his right arm still around her waist.

He smiled down at her, relief beginning to supersede his anger. Her hair was down instead of her usual braid, wavy and cascading down her shoulders.

Solas joined in her rhythm, swaying his head, then his shoulders with her. The rhythm rounded in circles, the two sighing with each other, as they moved within one another, skin to skin.

The rhythm moved through their feet, beginning the slowest and closest tango, their bodies inescapable from the other’s touch. They breathed heavily into each other, their lips never breaking as they danced.

The air was warm and humid, their bodies unable to escape.

In one fluid motion, Solas’s right hand trailed down to the back of her tunic, finding the hem, then pulled it up and over her, dropping it to the floor.

With her turn to lead, she began unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it over his head to join the floor with her tunic.

Still one arm around her, Solas knelt before her, his head level with her naval. He leaned into her skin, nuzzling and mouthing her abdomen as goosebumps rose. He pulled her in closer, trailing his tongue down her stomach and eventually to the waistline of her pants. Solas looked up to her, a smirk cocked, as Mara heaved long breaths in anticipation. 

Unhinging their hands, he unwound the laces of her pants, sliding the leggings down from her hips and off her body. As he undressed her, he continued kissing her abdomen, to her pelvis, to her thighs, and then down to her legs, finally removing the last of her garments.

She stood before him, bare, and wonderfully resplendent. He worshiped the curve of her hips jutted before him, the freckles strewn across her body, how her chest rose in anticipated pleasure. She was magnificent and he briefly let himself imagine the world if Arlathan were restored. A world in which he reigned at her side, royalty bestowed to her for the queen she was at heart.

The thoughts excited him and he planned to worship her more tonight.

Solas stood, leading her to the bed with yearning in his darkened eyes. She followed readily, longing coursing through her as the Dread Wolf made himself back to her.

She backed herself to the bed, the mattress bucking against the back of her legs. Solas swiftly removed his remaining apparel, leaning in to kiss her hungrily, thoroughly. Mara sat down on the bed, scooting back to the center while Solas crawled to meet her, their lips never parting.

Mara stopped when they made it to the front of the bed, then rose to her knees, towering over his devastatingly handsome face a few inches. He followed her notion, spreading the thick of his thighs so that she could straddle him, and encouraged her to ride upon his lap. Mara continued kissing him, adding pressure, biting and pulling on his perfect lips. His artist hands roamed her body as she was atop of him, feeling every curve—the expanse of her hips, the small of her toned waist, and the ample backside. His hand landed on her lower back, pulling her into each wanton thrust.

Mara delighted in his touch and rolled her hips against him, increasing her desire to continue. She changed targets, moving her mouth in slow measures to his ear, biting his neck and nibbling on his stark jawline, eventually ending in a bite to his ear lobe. Small moans escaped his lips when she bit him, and he tightened his grip on her hips.

She breathed heavily into his ear, sending a chill down his neck along with her wandering hands. “I need you, Solas,” desire escaped her lips, as she scratched down his sculpted back.

Solas nodded, jutting his hips and aligning himself with her. Once in position, she sunk down on him slowly, rolling her hips to lead him in, letting out a gasp as he filled her inner walls.  
Solas smirked at the sound, his eyes flooding with hunger to have her, to please her. The idea of her using his body to please her own floored him, stoking his own desires.

He joined her rhythm of rolling, allowing her to control the tempo and the pressure, matching her changes. He was attentive, focusing on encouraging her needs. Still, it was hard to not allow a moan to escape his lips as she lifted, sunk, and tightened around him. _She felt so good_.

Solas ran a hand through her blonde hair, down to the base of her neck, giving a firm tug. Small, controlled tugging and biting fueled her, and himself as well. He began kissing her neck, running his warm, wet lips along her jawline. With one arm still around her waist, he pulled her closer to him, anticipating her dreamy, breathy gasp.

Mara increased the pace, grinding down more intensely on him, her noises becoming more frequent. Solas nuzzled his face against her breasts, breathing deeply with her. Her wetness pooled around him. This was the perfect time to change.

“Let me drink from you,” he breathed into her ear and his own temptation was peaking. He pulled back to look at her face, tinted in pink and glistening. He nodded to her, pulling her in to kiss her deeply before changing positions.

~

In circles he rounded her folds slowly, measured, watching her expression and listening to her breaths, until settling on a bundle of nerves. In circles he swathed his wet Fade-Tongue, her legs beginning to shake with each round. He continued as her breathing, hitched and unsteady— sent her full body trembling in anticipation.

As her moans become more vocal, he pressed his tongue within her, feeling her walls, before dipping his fingers within. She gasped at this motion, moving her hips forward while digging her fingers in the silk sheets. She wanted this, she needed this, and she was so deserving. He moved his fingers in swirls, rhythmically, tasting her nectar while dragging his tongue up through her folds, landing on the nerves, nibbling and tugging on her button.

She gave a muted gasp, and Solas increased his pressure and his rhythm, matching her fervor until finally her legs outstretched, toes curling, her entire body trembling, her chest heaving as she called his name. “Solas!”

Her body slowly began to relax, her body erratically shaking, her breath heavy and loud.

Solas looked up to her, his eyes following her thighs, her abdomen, her breasts, and finally her face. Her face full and rosy, relaxed, and heavenly, her body dewy with perspiration.

He leaned in and gave one more kiss to her flower, moving up the bed to join her, roaming his hands up her, until settling on her face, his hand on her jawline.

She opened her eyes to his touch, still trying to catch her breath and words. “Solas,” she sighed, smiling from the perfection of the release.

She looked radiant and glowed in her appeal. Their gaze met and he smiled back to her, running his free hand through her hair. “Ar lath ma, Vhenan” he whispered to her, mesmerized by her beauty in this moment, and in all moments.

“Ar lath ma,” she whispered back, beaming in the dew and the aftermath.

They stayed like this for some time, staring into each other’s souls, content with being bare with one another.

After some time his smile turned into a chuckle. “Would you like for me to get you some water, my heart?” He asked.

She nodded and pointed to around the corner where the master bath was located. Words escaped her in the glory.


	9. Grim and Fatalistic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9  
> Day 25 of Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020: Magic
> 
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Solas returned after a short moment, carrying a glass of water for each of them to her bed. Mara was sitting up against pillows, her breathing returning to a normal rate, her skin still flushed pink in her cheeks and ears. She sighed lovingly when he returned, her eyes brimming with admiration.

Solas joined her, taking a swig of water before setting it down and joining her under the covers. “Come here, Vhenan,” Solas beckoned, opening his arms so that she could sit in front of him, her back against the front of his body. She complied, snuggling into the space in his arms, his arms wrapping around her body and pulling her in.

His head rested on her shoulder, his mouth nuzzling her ear. “Forgive me, Vhenan. I cannot stay away from you or your skin.” He let out a hot, low breath. “You’re insatiable, and I long to feel you.”

A bolt of warmth spread through her as his voice lowered in her ear, chills spreading down her neck and chest. “I become lost within you” she sighed, breathing him and his words in. “And you find me.”

Solas trailed his lips behind her ear, finally settling on a kiss on her upper ear. He squeezed his arms around her, hugging her tighter.

A heavy silence followed. This was only the second time they had met since he let her in, and very few words had been exchanged about his grand plans. She needed to know something, _anything_ , even something small. He had promised he would consider the ideas she shared with him for a more peaceful transition. Had he though?

She recalled reports of Solas, or at least the agents of Fen’Harel, who were inciting and instigating further conflict with the Qunari and the Imperium. Causing more mayhem and destruction.

He began. “The conflicts of the Tevinter or the Qunari could destroy the world on their own.

It is likely they will continue their schemes to invade and conquer, killing each other and all in their path. Even families and lovers and children.

They will follow in folly such as the tyrants of the Evanuris.” Solas paused, allowing time for her to follow before continuing.

“I regret to say that I had a hand in muddying the waters with the Qunari and the Imperium. I have, however, withdrew all future plans for my agents to meddle.

It is...unfair to set the world ablaze just to watch it burn.”

Okay, so in his own Solas-y way he had considered her alternative methods. It was a start, but there was a long and unknown death march ahead.

“While the Imperium and the Qunari war with all in their path, we will face an even larger war with the Evanuris and the Forgotten ones.”

“Even in the remote chance the falling of the Veil would not directly lead to destruction of the world, what the Imperium and Qunari won’t sacrifice, the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones will.

While the foes of this age bicker and cut one another down, a greater force will be upon the world.” There he was, grim and fatalistic.

Or in this instance...realistic.

And just like that, she felt the immense weight of it all. Not only did she have a hand in trying to prevent Tevinter and the Qunari from invading other nations, she was scouting the world to find tomes of ancient magic to negate the aftershock of the veil dropping, meeting with Keepers of clans across the lands to ask for their support in serving a peaceful transition, trying to understand the magnitude of the threat of unleashed and vengeful ancient Elvhen gods and the Forgotten Ones who not only may vow to destroy the world and each other, but are immensely likely to have Solas in their cross-hairs for banishing them all this time. Even if the world were to keep spinning, she would likely lose him.

She brought her knees up to her chest and leaned her head forward as a sob rolled out of her mouth. She hugged her knee, her throat tightening, hot tears flooding her vision, dropping from her cheeks to her knees.

“Vhenan?” His voice broke as he saw her become a puddle before him. He kept one arm around her waist, giving her a squeeze. With his other hand, he pushed back her hair that had fallen over her face. He continued to run his fingers through her hair, stopping at her back before continuing the motion again.

After a moment he knelt his head to hers, his forehead to her temple. “What is it Vhenan?” He asked gently, stroking her hair down her back.

Tears streamed down her face, but she sniffed three times to be able to speak. “It’s... it’s too much this time,” she shook her head before sobbing again.

The sight of her crying and feeling defeated made Solas crumble on the inside. His hand on her back began to tremble.

“Come here,” he whispered to her, opening his arms for her to face him. With a nod Mara turned to him, resting her head on his shoulder, pulling her arm around his waist.

Hot tears rolled onto his shoulder, but he didn’t mind. He welcomed her, drawing her in tightly with his arms. He let her stay there for a few minutes, the crying slowing and quieting before suddenly coursing again.

“I’m here Vhenan,” Solas whispered, not knowing what he could say while the flood poured through her.

After several minutes, she began to breathe deeply, regaining control.

She sighed and lifted her head, looking up and finding Solas’ eyes full of worry and heart ache. His eyes were welled with moisture, although there were no tears on his face.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, feeling shame for breaking down before him.

Solas shook his head. “Don’t be, Vhenan.” A small smile crossed his lips, a hand brushing back the bangs from her face.

“You are remarkably strong.” His smile widened further, soft in admiration. “I have seen many people try to change the world, for the better or worse, but never someone thrust upon the path who responded in such grace, dignity, and resilience.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

“You are a warrior, Mara. And your heart leads and guides you to make decisions with integrity.

Few to none could do what was asked of you, and what is asked of you again.

 _You_ are our very best chance.

And I love you so much. I admire you. I cherish you. And I worship you.” He pulled her closer, kissing her tenderly and tasting the tears.

He gulped and looked down, shame flooding through him. “I am so sorry I left you in the dark.” His voice was a whisper, broken, and ashamed. “I am at fault, and it is my fear that has hurt you many times over.” His mouth quivered. He raised his head to look at her, searching her face. “You are my equal. And you are my partner—if you’ll have me.”

Solas’ eyes were wide in vulnerability.

Mara shook her head, letting out a breath before meeting his gaze. “My heart has been yours all along.” The answer, however, only added sadness to his eyes. She opened her mouth before knowing what to say.

Solas tilted his head forward, kissing her shoulder. “And now I ask for your choice—something I never gave you years ago. I made choices for you, including keeping you in the dark, thinking it would save you.”

Falling for him wasn’t a choice, but loving him when he couldn’t see the light of day was a choice she would make every time. She met his gaze with certainty.

“I accept you Solas, for all that you are. _I choose you_.” Mara brought her hand up to his face, his beautiful, stoic, and sharp features. But in all the vulnerability in the air, she had never seen his features so soft and loving.

She arched her back, leaning forward, placing her mouth on his full, beautiful lips. She kissed him softly, pulling back to read his face. The sadness in him had mostly dissipated, affection filling its place in its stead.

“I choose you,” he whispered, embracing feelings he had tried to keep at bay in a remote part of his heart. No longer. No need.

Solas kissed her back with fervor, parting his lips to slip his tongue within her mouth.

Although the time was running out for this visit, he longed to give himself to her fully. He had warred within himself for far too long.

He pulled back just enough so that he could begin kissing the corner of her smile, up to her cheek, her temple, her forehead, her nose, her chin. And back to her lips with care.

“Can you tell me more about the magic that formed the veil?” She asked quietly. This was something he had never shared, nor could she find reputable pieces to the puzzle. She knew Solas had formed the Veil while he resided at Skyhold many millennia ago, but how exactly did it happen? What magic and weapons were required? How long did it take to cast the magic to form the veil? How long until the Veil permeated throughout the world?

She knew he slumbered after the formation, waking to a very different world.

Solas breathed in deeply and held it before letting out a sigh. “I’m afraid we don’t have the time tonight, Vhenan. But I promise you, we will.” Solas took her right hand in his, bringing it up, and kissing the back of it tenderly, leaving consecutive kisses up her arm.

It was no longer night, but in fact early morning. Possibly just an hour before the sunrise. Solas looked to the balcony which faced East. “I have to be leaving soon,” he sighed, heavy in grief as it dawned on him that he had to leave her for some time.

“I know,” she whispered, reaching her hand to his face. Solas leaned in and kissed her forehead, before getting up to find his clothes scattered across her bedchamber. She watched him as he dressed, admiring his physique while missing his skin. She stood up and walked over to him, helping him with his cloak. She was still bare, and Solas admired the sight of her one more time.

He looked over to the mantle of the fireplace where the pendant lay, the one that Cullen had given her.

“Although I can’t say I’m happy to hear that the golden boy admires you… I trust that he will do whatever it takes to protect you.” He sighed, but was assured when she looked up at him with tenderness in her eyes and with her gentle touch on his chest. He smiled as she took his hand.

“He can’t know that you have discerned the pendant’s true magic. For now, wear the necklace chain but keep the pendant in one of the caravanning packs.”

She nodded and understood.

Solas shifted his weight, something he hardly ever did for someone so composed much of the time. His free hand found a pocket in his cloak and withdrew a small piece of metal.

Mara squinted her eyes, tilting her head.

“Will you wear my ring?” Solas asked, unfolding his hand to a brilliant, brass ring with an Ancient Elvhen inscription. “It will help me find you and we could meet much more frequently.” His eyes watched hers as she gazed at the ring.

She paused, not sure if he knew what such a token often implied in modern culture, especially among humans.

“You could wear it with the same chain, no one ever knowing the difference.” She took the ring in her right hand, holding it in her palm. It was beautifully ornate and soft, with magic humming from it. It was small enough that it could fit her fingers. Her heart sunk to her stomach, thinking she could never wear it on her left hand.

Mara gulped, trying to hide her conflicting feelings. “Thank you.” She gave a soft smile, upset at herself for ruining a moment of gift giving.

“You sure are selective when you share your feelings, Mara,” Solas retorted with a low chuckle, handling the original necklace chain and removing the pendant.

Mara raised her eyebrow, surely missing something now.

“I assumed a grander reaction for accepting to become my betrothed,” he scoffed heartedly.

“I…I assumed you didn’t know what it meant!” She responded in disbelief, shame filling her for her awkwardness. Her cheeks and ears flushed red.

Solas chuckled, leaning in and kissing her. “It is my promise to you, Vhenan. Come what may. We choose one another.”

He took the ring from her hand and placed it on the necklace. “May I?” He asked.

Mara looked up at him, nodding, as a small smile grew into a beam.

Solas lifted his arms above her, laying the necklace over her head. The ring fell with gravity then hung taut between her breasts. The ring surprisingly felt warm as it buzzed with magic.

“I’ve been carrying that for a while,” he admitted, pulling her into a hug. “I love you, Vhenan. Please be safe in the Deep Roads.”

She opened her mouth to say it back and then “…I didn’t tell you that’s where I’m going.”

“Hmm.” He smirked. “Didn’t you?” He asked, raising his eyebrow in his cockiness.

She let out a small laugh, then the seriousness returned. “I love you Solas.”

He kissed her once more, thoroughly. “I’ll see you in your dreams.” He turned, escaping through the servant’s corridors. To his luck, an Eluvian was a part-day’s hike away. He returned to his fortress before mid-morning with a small smile on his face.

~

Mara was only able to sleep a couple of hours before waking for the day’s journey. She looked down at herself, a Templar pendant replaced with Solas’ promise. _A much better trade_ , she thought. She showered and dressed for the day, packing her gear and hiding the Templar pendant among her things.

She joined the rest of the party in the great hall, the members chatting eagerly while filling up with breakfast. She took a moment and marveled at the sight—while this was only a slice of her followers and those who pledged their service, it was humbling to view a hall of adventurers in her cause.

She sucked in a breath, before finding a lone spot to herself. She had not sat down for more than 30 seconds before a messenger approached her. “Good morning, Lady Inquisitor. A message for you from Arlathan.” The messenger bowed their head, extending their arm.

“Thank you Nola,” she gave a small smile, receiving the letter. It was unopened. Often times the letters passed through their spymaster, ambassador, or commander before reaching her. She was happy that orders were followed—communique from clans were to go straight to the Inquisitor before anyone else.

The letter had also been magically sealed. It shimmered with a silver and blue magic. She turned it over to open it, the magic releasing its contents. The letter was written in Elvhen.

_Dear Inquisitor_

_Although I remained cautious of you and your followers, you had convinced me at the least to consider your words._

_The forest is changing, and I sense enemies of darkness threatening to occupy and assault our lands._

_One is old magic._

_The other is unknown._

_You have my attention and my word to help you--as you have warned us for the tides ahead._

_Dareth Shiral,_

_Keeper Allenan_


	10. The Writers' Troupe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10  
> Day 26 of Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020: Armor
> 
> References made to the 10th story in Tevinter Nights.
> 
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Mara folded the letter from Keeper Allenan and tucked it away into her pack before resuming her breakfast. She would update the Inner Circle later of their new ally with the Allenan clan along the outskirts of the Arlathan forest.

Speaking of which, Cullen strolled over to her, stopping before requesting to join her. He had made himself scarce since gifting her the Templar pendant three months ago that supposedly was a ward against mage possession. She had found out last night instead that the pendant acted as a cloak, shrouding herself from the Fade—and all who tried to find her through the Fade.

Uncertain of Cullen’s knowledge of the actual magic of the pendant, Solas had swapped the Templar pendant for his ring—and by his words a promise what made unto each other.

“Inquisitor?” He asked straightforward, hoping to join her at the table to discuss the day.

“Go ahead Commander,” she nodded to the seat across from her, watching as he carefully sat down. “You look tired, Commander. Do you also find it hard to sleep the night before an adventure?” There had been few exchanges between the two the last few months. Cullen had withdrawn from joining her envoys, any work-related communique brief and straightforward.

Cullen strummed his fingers across the top of the wooden table, choosing his words. “I oversaw another round of recruits heading to the Deep Roads after midnight, after hearing word from our spies already in place.” Cullen crossed his arms, tapping his index finger to his forearm.

“The Antaam’s presence over the stretch of the Imperial Highway, and what lies beneath, has lessened some, becoming more infrequent. Their leader Rasaan has not been spotted for three weeks.

However, it would be foolish of us to assume her presence unexpected or inconsequential. I think Rasaan has become more heated and inconspicuous since our writing troupe recovered the tomes, somehow managing to take many of her men as they fled.”

Mara nodded, accepting this answer. “And we are still set to meet the troupe later this morning?”

“Some, yes. Genitivi has developed a nasty cold and is in Antiva currently. Philliam and Sister Laudine have agreed to meet us at the tavern.”

“Philliam, a Bard!” Mara responded. “That is the name he has chosen.”

Cullen opened his mouth then stopped before continuing his original sentiment. “Of course, Inquisitor. _Philliam, A Bard!_ ”. Cullen’s voice dripped in sarcasm, but she let it slide.

Mara stood up and gathered her pack. “Thank you for joining us today, Commander. It should not disappoint.” She paused. “Ready to leave in 20 minutes?”

Cullen disregarded her first response, giving one singular answer. “Yes,” he agreed, standing to bow his head to her.

  
~  
  


Mara exited the fort in her battlemage armor, her hair braided at her crown that joined a long braid on her right side. What she could not manage on her own with one hand she was aided by magic. At least there was that.

A party of 6 was waiting for her to travel to the tavern before heading along to the Deep Roads. Other parties of scouts and spies were already at their final destination, or shortly approaching.

Cullen began, “The tavern should be a 2 hour hike from here. The 5 of you will be stationed at different lengths inside and out of the tavern as detail—2 outside, one at the door, and 2 inside incognito. I will stand guard with the Inquisitor with our contacts.” He stood tall, reading the faces of his troops. “Upon leave of the tavern, we will journey to the Deep Roads. We have had spies in place for more than a month and four brigades positioned upon our arrival. Our goal is to obtain ancient tomes or artifacts of significance. If in doubt, retrieve.” He looked at his troops again. He gave a serious nod, then turned in silence to begin the traverse to the tavern.

The party remained quiet for much of the journey. Perhaps the rest of the crew was uncertain of Cullen’s tighter lip than usual. The party kept off the main roads, not wanting to draw attention. As they approached the tavern, they staggered their placement and timing. Two remained outside, scouting with views of the entrance and the south. One remained near the entrance. Another two came in separately, 15 minutes apart. After another 20 minutes, Mara nodded to Cullen to proceed inside.

Although later in the morning, the tavern was dim and moderately full of murmuring customers. The patrons paid little attention who entered the door, giving a quick glance before returning to their conversations and lager. Mara spotted the writing troupe at a corner table, perhaps the darkest table in all of the tavern. Mara approached the two, Cullen following her closely with eyes peeled. About fifteen feet from the table, Sister Laudine acknowledged them with a lifted eyebrow, Philliam, a Bard! turning around in his seat conspicuously. Sister Laudine glared at him for his lack of subtlety.

Sister Laudine was young and dressed in muted colors, an homage to her past years as a Sister in the chantry. She left—writing saucy and erotic novels instead. There was an allure in her eyes that danced in the firelight of the pub. Philliam, a Bard! was a mousy man in comparison, definitely bookish with his unkempt hair and his reading glasses.

“Inquisitor!” Philliam, A Bard! whispered with excitement and awe, in disbelief of who was standing before him.

“Shush!” Sister Laudine spat, not amused by his indiscretion. “Please join us Inquisitor… and…” Sister Laudine titled her head, her eyes widening at the site of Cullen. What light the tavern had from the few torches and candles cast a steamy glow on the golden boy. He looked ruggedly handsome and serious. Sister Laudine had found her next dinner.

“Commander Cullen,” Mara named him, sliding down to the bar stool. Cullen remained standing, promptly behind and to the left of her, subtly watching the tavern as well as their table. “Thank you for meeting with us today.

“He commands your army?” Sister Laudine asked, still looking at him. In her mind she began writing her next smut staring Cullen.

  
Philliam, A Bard! let out a small huff. Sister Laudine and him had a non-committal occasional romp, but being within the same vicinity of the golden warrior did him no justice.

“Yes.” Mara continued, drawing Sister Laudine’s interest back in her tone. “I want to thank you for your travels to the Deep Roads. Your escape from the Antaam, whether or not as fantastical as your fiction, is still impressive. I cannot thank you enough for your merits, and the knowledge it brings us.” Josephine would be proud of her diplomacy.

“How have you faired since your journey?” Mara asked, allowing the two to speak.

“Good… great! Thank you, Lady Inquisitor,” Philliam, a Bard! stammered.

Mara gave him a small but sincere smile before turning her eyes to Sister Laudine.

“Very well, thank you Inquisitor…” Sister Laudine drew out the title, unsure of the catch. Unsure of why the Inquisitor had asked them to meet her in the first place. She and Philliam, a Bard! both thought it was a little odd for someone with so much power to meet with the foot soldiers who had carried out a deed in her name.

Mara paused, watching the two, before continuing. Cullen had shifted his weight behind her and she realized _just how closely_ he was to her. His gauntlets were digging into her back.

“Given your merits as purveyors to storytelling and your experience with the adventure so far, I wanted to ask if you would join me today to journey back.” Mara watched as their expressions quickly changed. Philliam, a Bard!’s mouth gaped open, while Sister Laudine raised both of her eyebrows.

The two were quiet for a moment before Philliam, a Bard! spoke up. “Thank you, my Lady. I… we… it was very dangerous. And I don’t like the odds of the four of us, even with you as you are and the great sword watching your back.” Philliam, a Bard! gulped after finishing his statement.

Mara looked at Sister Laudine, who was awfully quiet now. On the reports sent to her, it was indeed fact that Sister Laudine had pulled magic from the Fade to save the troupe and grant their escape. Sister Laudine was a mage who had never been taught magic. Mara sympathized greatly with this.

“There are more. Many more.” Mara answered, and Cullen cleared his throat as she gave away more information than he wanted to share.

Sister Laudine kept her eyes down for a moment, looking up again to gaze at Cullen. “If anything big comes my way _he_ better be there to stop it.” Sister Laudine had experience as a rogue with daggers, but the golden boy coming to save her fit her story much better.

Cullen made eye contact with one of the Inquisition in the Tavern, who then exited through the door. The other spy neared their table, leaving a couple yards between them.

“We will be leaving soon if you are ready.” Mara answered, going to stand but Cullen had already pulled her chaired away for her. Once standing she turned slightly, meeting his gaze.

“Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible to anyone other than Cullen. He bowed his head slightly, not responding.

Philliam, a Bard! was about to object before he noticed the interaction between Cullen and the Inquisitor. Sister Laudine noticed it as well, making her nose wrinkle. So now she had to steal the attention away from the Inquisitor. _This will be fun_ , she thought--now up for the challenge.

Philliam, a Bard! and Sister Laudine stood. The other Inquisition spy moved in place, leading the pack outside with Cullen on guard at the end. 

The pack continued about a half a mile away from the tavern before stopping. The other 5 Inquisition members joined their party.

“Okay, 9 are better odds.” Philliam, a Bard! joked.  
  


“You’ll see,” Mara stated coolly. “It is my understanding a portion of the Imperial Highway has need for repair, is that correct?” She asked, implying that Sister Laudine had been successful in destroying a number of the pillars holding up the roads, allowing for their escape from the Antaam.

“Yes, Inquisitor.” Sister Laudine answered.

“We want to return to the library you found. There is an alternate path we can take to get to the location of the supply shaft with the highway damaged.” Mara stated, ready to get moving.

“So… will the big guy protect me too? I’m…erm. I’m not a warrior.” Philliam, a Bard! stated.

 _The writer has jokes_ , Mara thought.

“Any number of us will,” Cullen retorted, the tone of a slight sigh in his voice. Cullen hadn’t considered his duty today would include protecting a weak writer who couldn’t defend himself.

The party started their travel from the outskirts of the tavern towards the Imperial Highway. Mara noticed that Sister Laudine had forced herself between Cullen and Mara, keeping up with his pace and brandishing a smile for him.

Cullen had this effect on most people, whether in public, with new recruits, or new contacts. The people of Thedas bowed to his ruggedly handsome looks and his tousled hair. He, however, only bowed for one.

  
“So Commander?” Sister Laudine’s voice lilted and she batted her eyes at him, keeping up with his brisk pace. “What were you doing before the Inquisition?”

Cullen looked to Mara to see if he really needed to answer her question. Mara shrugged.

“I was a Knight-Commander with the Templars,” Cullen answered. This was not the answer Sister Laudine had expected. Although she was a mage who did not harness her power, she feared the name of a Templar.

Mara sensed Sister Laudine’s hesitation. “Commander Cullen is a professional and has served the Inquisition with integrity. I’ve trusted his choices and guidance since I’ve met him.”

Cullen halted his pace briefly before continuing, hardly muting a scoff. The answer did not appease him. Why did she answer for him? Cullen remained quiet for several minutes, not looking at Sister Laudine or Mara.

The party also quieted, proceeding to the Imperial Highway.

  
The scout at the front raised their arm, signaling to stop, then pointed to the left. Upon turning, there was an inscrutable mark at the edge of the road, which to them signaled time to change course. The party walked left, following a narrow and winding pathway that led down the mountainside. The path was so narrow that only one person fit, forcing the party to venture forth single file. Mara was at the rear with Cullen just ahead of her. She watched as his head bobbed with each step of the rocky decline. 

“Cullen,” she whispered, only loud enough for him to hear. He slowed his pace, pulling back from the party a little. They were now more than 10 feet back from the closest party member. “Sister Laudine is a mage, but she was never taught how to use her magic. I think she was scared hearing you were a Templar… That’s why I said what I said.” Mara waited for him to say something, or at least acknowledge her. He didn’t, but eventually picked up his pace and narrowed the gap between himself and the rest of the party.

Cullen then remembered reading the reports from the writing troupe. Sister Laudine, magic unknown to her, ended up saving the troupe with demonstration of an intense use of magic. The reports said it took her weeks to recover, expending so much magic at once without knowing how. Cullen eyed Sister Laudine ahead, now feeling some remorse of her fear of him. 

The party made it down the mountainside, forming back into a group instead of single file. The party walked a few more miles, finally coming across an entrance. The party stopped and Mara looked into the wilds around them. Out of a shadow of foliage, an Inquisition spy stood up from her cover.

“Lady Inquisitor,” she began. “We have been waiting for you. There are already two brigades inside. They have cleared the traps and much of the rubble. We will follow you in, and one brigade will wait out here upon your word.”  
  


“Thank you Ell’when.” Mara answered and nodded. Suddenly, dozens of troops appeared from dark foliage. It startled both Philliam, Bard! and Sister Laudine. Philliam, a Bard! even gasped. Cullen gave a low chuckle at the writer’s startle.

“This is a different entrance,” Philliam, a Bard! stated. 

“It is,” Mara agreed. “The other entrance had such great damage from your fight with the Antaam that it was not safe to use. Based on your insight and maps—and our own scouting—we believe we have located the library your troupe discovered.”

“Oh,” was all Philliam, a Bard! said.

There was an old supply shaft indiscernible to the untrained eye near the foliage. While it was any guess to its age, it appeared in decent repair. 

  
“Small groups of 4 or less at a time on the supply shaft. The Inquisitor and I will stay back when it returns and accompany the writers.” Commander Cullen was back to giving orders.

“Yes ser!” 4 of the party descended down the supply shaft. 

Sister Laudine was imagining other ways of riding down the Commander’s shaft.

The party was quiet until the supply shaft had ascended, waiting for the next group. “To my knowledge it will be a longer walk than your original path, but we are approaching the library from the opposite direction.” Mara began. “While we do not have all the time in the world, I want you to gather and note what may be of use.” She purposely left this ambiguous. The original letter from the Inquisition surmised the knowledge desired.

The landing hit the bottom of the floor, gently for his archaic construction, and the party stepped off of its flooring. Mara led the party down the tunnel, the two writers behind her, and Cullen at the end. There were Inquisition forces staged every couple of yards along the tunnel. 

“Wow,” Philliam, a Bard! mouthed at Sister Laudine. Neither of them were expecting the Inquisition to occupy this section of the Deep Roads.

The tunnel, possibly carved during the Blights by darkspawn, was large and continued on indefinitely in sight. As the party continued, the walls of the tunnel changed, becoming more ornate and delicate, carved in the mastery of the long lost ancient Elvhen. Mara could feel the magic buzz around her as they approached the Ancient Elvhen ruins of the Deep Roads. She also felt the ring from Solas buzz in warmth with the surrounding magic.  
  


“Just up ahead!” Philliam, a Bard! stated, a little too loud so that his voice echoed several times before dying off. 

Cullen cut in curtly in front of Philliam, a Bard! “Might I remind you of the danger we face just by being here. Didn’t the Antaam already capture you once?” 

Philliam, a Bard! opened his mouth in embarrassment.

“I will be of no trouble to you, Commander,” Sister Laudine whispered, her voice lilting, as her eyes dared with the unspeakable acts in her mind that she _would_ be troubling him for.

Cullen did not acknowledge her statement, instead turning around and mouthed _Maker’s Breath_ to himself. Cullen caught that Mara had seen him cursing. She shrugged back to him and smiled.

As they stepped forward, the magic buzzed louder in the air. Mara felt the magic flush on her skin, tingling and almost playful. The tunnel opened to an oddly placed library, as if cut out from the rest of the tunnel. The carving on the walls were ornate and whispered to her in Elvhen. There were hundreds of tomes shelved upon opulent cases. Her eyes widened in wonder, her breath quickened in admiration. “It’s remarkable,” Mara whispered, forgetting she wasn’t alone for a moment. 

With all the recorded history of the world within the room, Cullen couldn’t help but to watch Mara’s expression instead. She was surprised and enchanted by the room. Her wonder gave her skin a rosy glow. Her smile was warm and genuine; he wished he could always see her this way. It took a moment to pull his gaze from her. 

“Writers, please review what you can in this room. If the tome should be excavated, bring it to one of our troops. They will gather and send the tomes above” He paused as two troops stationed themselves at the edge of the library, awaiting tomes.

The writers began reviewing the tomes and books, bringing several piles to the troops who in turn collected the artifacts to bring above. 

“The magic,” Mara began in a soft voice, speaking to Cullen. “There’s so much magic here that it vibrates. I feel it in my skin. I feel it… alive within me.” She was breathless in wonder. “I don’t suppose that makes since.” She corrected. Templars and mages surely felt magic differently. Templars through Lyrium and mages innately. 

“Based on how you’ve described magic before, it makes sense. This room houses many secrets of lost empires.” Cullen replied, beginning to browse some of the artifacts in the room.

Mara’s stomach sank when he described the lost empires of the Elves so straightforward. Hopefully it wouldn’t be that way forever.

Amidst the buzz of magic, Mara felt something _else_. It was like a very slow thrumming beat pulsing within her. She could feel a drumming at her core, but it originated far away? This didn’t make sense. The party had been in the library for at least an hour.

“I think there’s something else here,” Mara whispered. She closed her eyes and concentrated, then her eyes flashed open. “The Antaam are here.” She stated quietly but with urgency.

She pulled the staff from her back and summoned a health barrier that filled the entirety of the library. “The room is so small. This will not be ideal for combat.” She breathed, looking to Cullen. 

“How do you know they’re here?” Philliam, a Bard! asked. They had just been sorting tomes and nothing had changed.

Cullen shook his head gravely. His warrior instincts felt something too. He unsheathed his great sword.

“Can we draw the fight somewhere else, Cullen?” Mara asked, sensing the Antaam getting closer through her intuition alone. Mara whispered magic, alerting the rest of the Inquisition forces at the Deep Roads of the Antaam invaders.

He shook his head. There were just tunnels for miles with no further openings.

Mara’s heart sunk again. The library was unlikely to withstand another siege and mourned for all the magic and understanding that would be lost. Feeling the inevitable loss fueled her for the fight ahead. 

The Inquisition stationed in the tunnel prepared, drawing their weapons in anticipation of an attack.

A few seconds passed.

And then a minute.

She felt them, but where were they?

There was a shake, and then a rumble.

And the sky fell.

The Antaam had either found or made a crawlspace a story above the current locations of the tunnel and the library. Several containers of gaatlok ignited and exploded, crumbling the structural integrity of the path of the Deep Roads.

Tons of rock imploded within the cave, crushing the tunnel, the library, and all in its path.

Just before the ceiling fell, Mara cast a barrier above the library and part of the tunnel, delaying the capsize of the tons of rubble above. Mara drew from the Fade, a little easier than usual, and transformed the rubble suspended over them into fog.

A voice boomed from above, maniacal in nature, just on the edge of an opening from above.

“Dangerous thing,” Rasaan boomed, leader of the Antaam. “You have returned, and with friends. I have been waiting for you.”

Mara cast warmth through the crater sized hole in the ceiling, clearing the fog. “You’ll be speaking with me,” Mara shouted, steadily, with a tone of vengeance. “Face me, Antaam.”

“You ask of me, but you do not know my name?” Rasaan continued, from above.

“You are Rasaan,” Mara corrected. “But I don’t care for pleasantries. You have attacked my people.”

“And are your people just the agents of Fen’Harel?” Rasaan spat, squatting at the scene below her. Cullen and Mara had their weapons drawn, and behind them stood the Inquisition who had escaped the rubble.

“I am my own agent. And these are _my_ people.” Mara’s voice was low, almost a growl. “Face me!” She shouted above, lifting her hand so that green magic spilled from her hand, rapidly shooting forward and wrapping around Rasaan’s leg, pulling her down 20 feet to the library below.

Rasaan roared and spat at Mara. She was taller than all in the room, with long silvery-blonde hair and horns. Mara did not fear. She stood her down.

Rasaan shouted again, Antaam from above jumping through the hole in the ceiling to join their leader.

Philliam, a Bard! fled from the library as far as he could, trying to hide from the battle before him. Sister Laudine stayed to fight the Antaam spilling through the ceiling.

Mara cast another barrier before shooting fireballs at the Antaam before her. Cullen was in full swing with his sword, taking down one, two, and three Antaam within seconds. For the Antaam he slayed, more fell from the ceiling. Sister Laudine, while small, was agile and surprised the Antaam who overlooked her and her speedy daggers.

Mara heard another roar and turned to Rasaan who was gunning for her. Mara drew from the Fade a veilstrike, throwing Rasaan back several feet and slowing her down. 

This was perhaps the densest concentration of warriors in battle in the smallest battle space to date. Dozens of Inquisition against dozens of Antaam continuing to fall from the hole in the ceiling.

The fight continued for several minutes before the final warriors battled. Down to 10 Antaam.

Slice, stab, slit from Sister Laudine. Down to 9. Strike, crush, stun from Cullen. Down to 8.

The fighting dwindled until it was just Rasaan and the Inquisition.

Although Rasaan was the last, this only invigorated the fight in her eyes.

“It’s just you, Rasaan.” Cullen warned, there was sweat glistening on his brow but he was calm, collected, and ready.

“Why are you here, Rasaan?” Mara asked.

Rasaan spat again. “The same as you.”

“Sure,” Mara scoffed.

Rasaan growled. “Come on, _nameless_.”

Mara threw down another barrier before grabbing a dagger from a holster on her leg. Magic coursed within her more freely than before.

While Cullen taunted Rasaan, Mara lowered and swung around Rasaan, swiping weak points. Mara jabbed the back of Rasaan’s heels, kicked her in the back, and then jumped, swinging her arm, plunging her dagger deep into Rasaan’s neck at her jugular. Rasaan fell to her knees, and as her final act, sunk her sword into Cullen’s sternum.

Mara let out a painful cry, her breath hitching. Fire burned within her, her hand still on her dagger in Rasaan’s neck. Blood poured from Rasaan’s neck, and then her ears, her mouth, her eyes. Rasaan began to burn on the inside, matching Mara’s grief. This all happened in a painful blur.

Mara let go of her grip of the dagger, Rasaan falling to her side on the floor. Mara stepped forward to Cullen. His golden eyes were wide in disbelief, Rasaan’s sword cut through his chest to his back. He had knelt to the floor in collapse.

“Cullen!” she cried, placing her hand over his wound on his chest, closing her eyes and trying to draw enough magic to heal him. For anyone, this would be a fatal wound. The chance of her magic being enough to save him was small. 

She opened her eyes, crumbling as the wound was not healing. She looked at the sword and noted it was covered in blue magic. _The poison of the Antaam, the same they paint on their skin_ _for combat, fatal to foes_.

“Get my pack!” Mara yelled to anyone around her. “There…there should be a vial, dark green. Bring it to me now!” Philliam, a Bard! listened, rummaging through her pack. “Sister Laudine, I need you to join me. I need you to pull the sword, and then I need your magic. I need all the mages that can fit in here”. Sister Laudine stepped forward with her hands shaking, other Inquisition mages shuffling forward on command.

“I think I found it!” Philliam, a Bard! yelled, handing the open vial to Mara. “Sister Laudine, pull it now!”

Sister Laudine followed her instructions and pulled out the sword, and Mara poured the contents of the vial over his large chest wound. Her hand covered his wound again, pressing into it.

His golden eyes were darkening to a slowed, thick amber as blood began pooling out of his mouth. “Stay with me, Cullen.” Mara commanded, but her voice was scared. “Sister Laudine, place your hand over mine. Push, and direct the magic into him. Mages, join us.”

Sister Laudine opened her mouth, unsure if she might be harming him further. She complied, trying to draw from the Fade as she did from her last adventure here and pushed the flow of magic through their hands into his chest.

“Come on,” Mara pleaded, her throat tightening, tears beginning to stream down her face. “Help me,” she muttered. She concentrated on the magic within her, once coursing, now a faint murmur.

She then distinctly felt the ring she wore on a necklace. Solas’ ring. She felt warmth emanating from it while all other magic appeared to be spent. “ _Help me_.” She whispered again, bowing her head while still holding her hand to his chest wound.

His breathing slowed, infrequent, until silence. Mara let out a sob, pulling his body to her in an all too late hold. She held him, her cheek to his as hot tears fell.

How could she let this happen to him? Grief rocked her into a tremble as she lost her friend of many years.

She pulled back to look at his face, prepared to close his kind and honeyed eyes that had trusted her. Eyes that had hoped for her and longed for her.

And then… a glint? She used the back of her hand to clear her blurred eyes. His rugged mouth twitched, and then ever so slightly turned upward.

“Did you get her?” Cullen’s voice was faint and weak.

Mara began crying again and nodded. She lifted her hand slightly to see that while his wound was not healed yet, it had closed.

Philliam, a Bard! cleared his throat. “Yeah, the Inquisitor ended up leaping, stabbing the Antaam in the neck… and then I think liquefied her internal organs.”

At that, the stench of the room became apparent.

“They helped me,” Mara gave him a small smile while her heart was heavy. “Philliam, a Bard! retrieved an antivenin from my pack, a gift from Viago. Sister Laudine and the mages joined their magic with mine to heal you.”

Cullen looked down to where her hand had been and felt the extent on the wound. “Mara, this wound… I don’t know how…” His voice trailed. He should be dead. Even with magic.

“I’m glad to have you back, Commander,” she smiled again once more. With the situation less dire now, she looked around the library and the tunnel. There was _so_ much rubble and ruin. While Mara had worked on saving Cullen, the Inquisition began retrieving those under the rubble, and clearing the rubble. “I will speak with our second in command to devise a plan to get you out of here first. Sister Laudine, can you stay with Cullen?” Mara asked, looking over to Sister Laudine.

“Of course Inquisitor,” Sister Laudine nodded. She looked at Cullen, finding it less apt to plan her sexual escapades with him. _Perhaps when he heals there can be –thank-the-Maker-we’re-alive-sex_. “So,” she turned to Cullen, wetting a cloth to dab some of the blood off his mouth. “She’s a mage, and yet she uses a blade, too”?

Cullen let out a faint laugh. “I taught her.” He started, sucking in a breath. “After she lost her arm, I trained with her. To make sure she could stand her own.” It’s something he hadn’t openly discussed with anyone, but it was a fitting question. “She can best anyone with a dagger, axe, great sword, mace, or staff. I made sure of it. She even bested me in the end.”

_Damn, it’s going to be hard to live up to the Inquisitor,_ Sister Laudine thought. “She’s a powerful mage. The strength of her casts and how much she channels… I don’t know she she does it.”

Cullen looked up at Sister Laudine, remembering her question from that morning. “I’m sorry about earlier.” He paused, watching her tilt her head. “I told you I was a Templar. I wasn’t thinking you…you might not trust me.” He continued. “She showed me there can be good that comes from magic. And to not hold anyone to first impressions.” All the truths flowed forth. Perhaps it was from almost dying, or blood loss, or a side effect of the antivenin. Or his new found clarity.

“To be honest I was skeptical about the Inquisitor. You hear the stories and think they’re all just tall tales. But seeing her today, watching her, and hearing _you_ talk about her… I see why people believe.” Sister Laudine joined in the candor.

Mara walked back over to the small group. “The tunnel should be cleared enough within the hour, and with the supply shaft so far away they don’t believe it’s damaged. There are a few carriages up ahead that can take you straight back, Cullen. I’ve arranged that I can head back with you, the tomes to follow later.”

“Actually Inquisitor, if you don’t mind…I’d be willing to ride back with the Commander.” Sister Laudine offered, still kneeling with Cullen as he sat back, resting against a wall of rubble.

Mara looked to Sister Laudine and then to Cullen. She raised her eyebrows with Cullen answering with a shrug. “Thank you Sister Laudine. That would be helpful. Philliam, a Bard! I can arrange travel for you shortly after, if you don’t mind. I need help carrying out some of the tomes that weren’t destroyed.”

 _Of course_ , Philliam, a Bard! thought. _Sister Laudine gets to snuggle up with the grateful, golden warrior and I’m stuck on tome duty._ “Thank you Inquisitor. Happy to help.” He conceded.

Within the hour, the tunnel was clear enough to begin their ascent. Sister Laudine and Cullen left first to the Fort with others who were wounded. Mara and Philliam, a Bard! left the Deep Roads about an hour later.

When Mara arrived at the current fortress, she was bone tired. Within 24 hours, she had very little sleep, very little to eat, openly wept for the impending doom of the world with her lover, and openly wept for almost losing a friend. And slayed dozens of Antaam and their leader—but that was easy in comparison. Grief weighed heavier than battle.

Mara had asked for her dinner to be brought up to her room, planning to fall asleep immediately after eating. In the meantime, she rinsed off, scrubbing away the grime, debris, Antaam blood… _Cullen’s blood_.  
She had almost lost him. And she was so sure that she had. He had stopped breathing and his pulse had stopped below her hand. Whatever combination of magic and antivenin saved him, she was grateful. _I’ll have to send a thank you note to Viago_ _for the antivenin_.

Her food was brought up just after changing into a robe. She brought the tray of food to her bed, set it down, and laid next to it, snacking on the meats and fruit until she began to drift.

~

_I had expected you to wait longer before siphoning me_. A low voice swirled in her head. She was in a daze of heavy fog and too tired for games.

 _Mara_. The same voice gave a low chuckle.

She opened her eyes and she was in her bed. It was still night and she heard the sound of the river coursing from her open balcony doors. A soft touch grazed her forehead and she squinted until the room came in to focus.

“Solas?” she asked. He was lying next to her on his back. She turned to her side, scooting closer to him and resting her head on his bare shoulder. She mumbled something incoherent.

“Oh Vhenan,” Solas sighed with a warm chuckle. “You are so tired, but you are still dreaming.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “Do you want to tell me about your day?”

She grumbled in her sleepiness. “Writing troupe. Deep roads. Library. Antaam. Stabbed the leader. Cullen…” her voice trailed as she started to remember the details, becoming more alert.

“He almost died.” She whispered, her voice breaking in the grief she still held.

Solas nodded. “He did.”

“What??” Mara lifted her head, searching Solas’ face.

“With the severity of the wound and the Antaam poison, your magic would not have saved him. Or the antivenin.” Solas began explaining slowly. “You asked for my help. And I did. I gave you my magic, freely. I let you syphon me.”

There was a pause. “I thought it would have been longer than a day before you figured it out.”  
  
“The ring?” Mara asked, raising her hand to finger the golden ring hanging down her chest.

“Yes. It allows you to wield some of my magic. My gift to you, as my bride.” Solas leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

“But I must caution you on its use.” His gaze, while soft, was earnest. “Power often corrupts, and the consequences are often too disastrous for its own good.” He paused again, gazing into her eyes. “I trust you, Vhenan. Your heart is pure and I give to you freely.”

She learned forward and kissed him gently. She had no intention of relying on his power. She understood how it could be exploited, and vowed to never come close to it. “Thank you Vhenan.” She answered. “I don’t want to rely on it or become too comfortable with it.”

He nodded and gave her a smile. “I know.” He continued playing with her hair. “I have to leave soon, Vhenan. But when you wake, you should check your pack.”

Mara tilted her head then nodded, closing her eyes and resting her head on his chest now.

“Goodnight Mara,” Solas whispered, holding her as she fell back asleep.

~

Mara awoke mid-morning the next day, stirring slowly in her bed. Her body was achy, her mind foggy until yesterday’s memories flashed to her in a flurry of still moments.

  
Despite the Inquisition forces occupying that portion of the Deep Roads, the Antaam had somehow successfully dug a crawlspace large enough for a number of their forces, to pounce and incapacitate those who seek the wealth of the library, all without detection. She then worried about infiltration, as it had already happened before. She herself had to take down the Iron Bull in battle.

A slow knock resounded from the large bedroom door. Mara sat up, pulled on her robe, then walked over and opened the door.

Nola, an Inquisition messenger, was at her door. “Lady Inquisitor, good morning.” Nola bowed her head.

“Good morning Nola,” Mara replied. She had made a pledge to herself to learn the names of all in her care.

“We have brought back several carts of artifacts and tomes from the Deep Roads. And one of your packs was found among the rubble. I have it here.” Nola handed Mara one of her larger packs.

“Thank you,” Mara received her pack. Despite looking full, it was very light.

“Commander Cullen would also like to speak to you when you have a chance. Along with Sister Laudine.”

Mara lifted her head before speaking. “Thank you…. how is Commander Cullen fairing this morning?”

“In good spirits, Inquisitor.” Nola replied

“Thank you, Nola. Good day.” Mara gave a smile, before closing the door. The weight of the door closing echoed for a few seconds.

Mara brought her pack to the desk in her bedchamber, remembering Solas’ words in her dreams. _When you wake, you should check your pack_. She didn’t remember leaving anything behind, but yesterday was full of chaos and rubble.

She pulled back the leather fold of the pack, revealing yellow gold shining up at her. The gold filling the pack dazzled her in its shine and it hummed with whispers of the Fade. She reached into the pack, pulling a piece of the gold out. It was _armor_. Opulent, lavish, elaborate. It was remarkably light and reminded her… of _Solas’ armor_ …that he had worn through the Eluvians. The markings were astonishingly similar, if not the same. 

In her hand was a stunning, golden gauntlet. Long, lean, and still so light. It was the gauntlet for the left arm.

Mara hesitated, then held the gauntlet up to where her left arm should be. The length of the gauntlet would have covered the entirety of her left hand and arm, stopping just below her shoulder.

She surprised herself by pulling the gauntlet to her left shoulder as if to wear it.

The gauntlet _snapped_ around her flesh, and she let out a gasp as heat flushed through her arm. Her left arm. _Her left arm._ Mara began to panic, her breath quickening. She closed her eyes and shook her head. This isn’t real. This is a mirage.

She opened her eyes again, her left arm, emanating with a golden sheen.

As she stared longer her left hand began to tremble.

When Mara had lost her arm, Dagna took it upon herself to try to craft a viable prosthetic. Although Dagna had created beautiful prosthetics, there was always something a little off. She found it actually slowed day her combat and was a hindrance. Cullen had helped her find her strength and balance, and pushed her to surpass her original combat skills.

Mara eyed the gauntlet and thought to herself to stretch out her left fingers, _and her left fingers straightened_. She thought to ball her left hand in a fist _, and her left hand formed a fist._

She sucked in a shaky breath and thought to move her left arm. _Her left arm crossed her midline, resting on her right arm._

She could feel her left arm. It was warm just like skin, and smooth. Magic surged through her body, and flowed to and from her left arm. She shook her head in disbelief, a small laugh escaping her lips in astonishment. Solas had planned for her to find the armor, or the armor to find her. 

He knew it was waiting for her. This was, yet again, an unexpected gift. 

Just to be sure, she reached into her pack and found the right gauntlet. Instead of snapping, she pulled it over her arm and it hugged her, lively with magic. It did not, however, take the place of her right arm as it had on her left. It was simply armor. Beautiful, intricate, light, and vibrant.

She drew in a deep breath, holding it in, before gently releasing it. 

She had to figure out how to tell her inner circle the news. And how to proceed with combat. She had learned the needs and balances of her body after losing her arm. Will she have to retrain?

And how much could she allow herself to share with her inner circle?  
Her mind quickly answered _Simple. Concise._

She removed the right gauntlet, putting it back in the leather pack. She dressed and draped a cloak over her.   
The first person she wanted to see was Cullen. She opened her door, heading down the stairs to his chambers in a nervous flurry.


	11. The Sun (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11  
> Day 27 of Solavellan Hell Art Challenge: Crossroads
> 
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Mara stood outside Cullen’s bedroom, hesitating before knocking. “Cullen?” Mara asked, waiting for an answer.

The door swung open to Sister Laudine, Cullen sitting propped up in his bed and shirtless.

“Um,” Mara stammered, not expecting the sight. She took a step back.

“Inquisitor!” Sister Laudine greeted. She was not wearing her clothes from yesterday’s travels, but rather was draped in one of Cullen’s tunics. And pantless.

Mara tilted her head then regained her composure. “Good morning Sister Laudine. Thank you for seeing Commander Cullen’s safe travels.” She gave a small, cordial smile. “I am needing to speak with my Commander. “ She gave a look to Cullen who was reddening in embarrassment. “You are welcome to the breakfast served in the Great Hall.”

This directive did not provide much wiggle room. “Yes, thank you Inquisitor. I will change and leave you two to speak.” Sister Laudine responded, grabbing her clothes from yesterday and heading to the bathroom to change. 

“Come in Inquisitor,” Cullen stated after Sister Laudine left.

Mara stepped forward slowly, feeling out of sorts. In all her years knowing him, she had never figured him for one-night stands. She looked around for a chair to take a seat but didn’t see any. Of course.

“Come sit,” Cullen offered, shuffling a little in his place to give her more room.

Mara sat at the edge of the bed, keeping her left arm out of view in her cloak. She looked up to him and gave him a genuine smile. “How are you feeling?”

Cullen smiled back. “Wouldn’t even know I had almost died yesterday.” His eyes saddened some, matching Mara’s sentiments. “Do you want to see?” He pulled the cover down almost to his waist. A chest wound that was four inches in width that had killed him yesterday was now a silvery scar.

“Unbelievable,” Mara whispered, reaching her hand to his chest. Yesterday, her hand had just barely covered the width of his wound. Blood had poured out of him as she bared her weight on his wound, applying pressure, and forcing healing magic to him. It was only after siphoning magic from Solas that healed and ultimately saved Cullen. She would not be telling that truth today. She was about to say _I’m glad you’re okay_ , but instead further truth unraveled.  
“I was scared I had lost you.” Wow. That was more honest than she was hoping for.  
  


Cullen’s eyes searched hers and noted vulnerability he was not used to seeing. “Sister Laudine said you channeled an incredible amount of magic, as if you _willed_ it to be.”

That wasn’t far from the truth. Mara shrugged and before she could think she pulled him in a tight hug. He had been a good friend to her for 6 years. After many had gone different ways or performed other duties, he stayed and helped her through winning and losing it all.

Cullen was surprised by the closeness. Perhaps his almost dying had given her clarity too.

She released her hold and pulled back. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Yesterday was unreal.”

“That it was,” Cullen whispered, thinking to himself. “We’re friends, right?”

Mara nodded and gave a small smile. “We are.” She was unsure where he was going with this.

“I know you just saved my life yesterday, but I’d like to ask you another favor.”

“Of course, what is it Cullen?” Her brow furrowed in anticipation.

Cullen took a breath, opening his mouth, then pausing before he began. “I was wondering… if we could make use of Sister Laudine. She has offered to help translating and sorting through the tomes.” Cullen began, but more was on his lips. Mara eyed him until he continued. “I also wondered if we,” he shifted his weight in the bed. “If we could show her how to use her magic. She was impressed with your use yesterday and expressed that she wishes she had formal training.”

_My, that was some pillow talk._ Mara was taken back. There wasn’t a history of bedmates joining the Inquisition forces or resources being pulled for them. But Cullen also wasn’t one to request favors for anyone. She took a moment before responding. “I can ask our Mage ambassador for our capacity to tutor. As for sorting and translation, I will trust your judgement.” The leader was back instead of the friend. But she had one more item to discuss.

“Thank you,” Cullen replied. “I appreciate you looking into it.”

Mara nodded before shifting the conversation. “There is something else I want to discuss with you.” The cloak was still shrouding her new arm. “After you left the Deep Roads yesterday, I helped to bring some of the artifacts and tomes to the caravans. I came across something.” She paused, standing up to unbutton her cloak. She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

Cullen looked up to her in wonder as she was about to undress.

She slipped the cloak off and opened her eyes, setting the cloak at the foot of the bed. “I came across armor. And… I tried the gauntlet on. And it appears to have… _fused_ with me.” Her explanation, although choppy, paled in comparison to the sight of her left arm, tinted in gold. She herself was in disbelief that it was there.

Cullen gaped, looking to her left arm, her face, and back to her arm. “Does it… can you…” Cullen stammered, not knowing how to address his questions. 

She lifted her arm, parallel to the bed. She flexed her fingers, then made a fist. Cullen was in wonder but his eyes were cautious. “Can you feel it?” He asked.

She tried to answer the ambiguous question. “Sensation-wise, it feels like my arm. The movements are fluid, unlike one of Dagna’s prosthesis.”

Cullen reached toward her arm, gently grabbing at her wrist. He tilted his head in surprise. “Can you feel that?” He asked while looking at her wrist.  
“Yes,” she turned her wrist so that her hand was palm up, his hand cradling hers. “Can you feel me?”

Cullen nodded before answering. “You’re warm and soft”. He said it in a whisper, as if his mind was deep in thought. He ran his thumb through her palm. After a while, he let go, pulling his hand back.

At that, the door had opened with Sister Laudine coming through without announcing herself. She had a mug of coffee in her hands and a muffin. “I brought some breakfast, but I’m sure we can ask for them to send up more food if you’re still hungry.” Sister Laudine was only looking at Cullen.

Mara grabbed her cloak, slipping it over herself inconspicuously. She didn’t want the second person knowing about her new arm to be Cullen’s play mate. She cleared her throat before offering her goodbyes. “Rest up, Commander. Sister Laudine—I will speak with you later. Good day.” She slipped out of his room quickly, wanting out of the weird and sexualized vibes between Cullen and Sister Laudine.

~

As promised, Mara found use for Sister Laudine to assist with translations and cataloguing the assortment of tomes. Sister Laudine made herself at home at the current fort, although a little hastily. Within a week of her first stay, Mara had arranged a mage tutor to work with Sister Laudine.

Sister Laudine was proving to be quite useful with the tomes, moreso than Mara at expected. According to the mage tutor, however, Sister Laudine was struggling with magic—but she had been without proper instruction her entire life. Even with her struggles, Sister Laudine was at least persistent and kept trying after every failure.

Four weeks into Sister Laudine’s stay, Sister Laudine had left a note with Mara requesting to meet her as soon as possible. Mara had just returned from a one-week excursion when she received the note.

Mara found Sister Laudine in an expanse of a study, tomes and scrolls scattered around her and every table in the room. “Sister Laudine,” she started. “You requested my presence?”

“Yes,” Sister Laudine replied, without looking up and without addressing titles. “I came across an obscure passage about the veil. I believe it will be of some interest to you.” She beckoned Mara over with her hand, pointing to the passage.

Mara joined Sister Laudine at the table, leaning forward to review the tome. Upon reading the script, her heart dropped to her stomach. “Thank you Sister Laudine. Is this all?”

Sister Laudine responded with an “mhmm,” still not looking up.

“Thank you Sister Laudine.” Mara left the study, taking in a breath as her chest tightened. She batted away the tears that wanted to pool. After reading the passage, she knew where she needed to go and who to speak to. She needed answers from the Dread Wolf in a pocket word.

His voice echoed in her mind from a recent visit in her dreams. 

_There is one last way. One way I am certain will do._

~

“You do _not_ get to decide this without me,” Anger dripped in her voice, a tone that was often left for enemies in battle. A tone not meant to be shared with a lover.

She was standing in the Crossroads, surrounded by ancient knowledge atop endless bookshelves. Surrounded in pages of knowledge that _he_ had contributed to through his actions.

Her breathing was heavy and audible. Sparks fizzed around her, threatening to catch the surroundings on fire.

“What did you think?” She continued, her voice equally as loud as her spite. “Did you think your gifts would make up for not being here? Did you think that your magic or the armor replaced you?...You asked for my choice, and we made a promise to one another. A promise not to leave each other in the dark, to speak and act as equals.

You took that from me when you decided for me.

 _I will not let you do that.”_ Mara’s body was trembling in resentment. In fear. In rage. In dread.

“How can you do this?” Her voice had quieted, her breath hitched as tears poured from her eyes. “How can you do this to me Solas?” Mara looked up at the ceiling of the library in the Crossroads, trying to catch her breath and prevent further tears. Her agony and disdain were like water and oil within her. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, trying to calm herself. Behind her, a bookcase of at least 30 feet tall caught fire.

He finally opened his mouth to speak. “Mara,” he spoke quietly, gently. With a small wave of his hand the fire disappeared.

“What?” She spat, sparks threatening to combust again around her. 

His demeanor was patient, enduring. “Will you come sit with me?” He asked.

Mara was too livid to sit at the moment. “You think this is a sacrifice for the greater good. This is not one of those times. You can’t expect for me to save the world and think that your leaving will be for the better.”

Solas remained quiet but stretched out his arm to her, asking her to take it.

Mara hesitated before taking his hand. Solas led her to a deep blue velvet sofa lined against the marble wall. He sat down first, and Mara second. He angled himself to face her, but she could not face him. She was too hurt and drowning in his decision. Another decision made without her—and one that was final.

Mara buried her face in her hands as her soul was torn. She could not catch her breath.

Solas laid one hand on her back between her shoulder blades. She briefly stiffened at his touch, and then sunk further. With his free hand, he reached for her golden left hand, placing his hand atop hers. He was a little surprised when she squeezed his hand back. He waited a moment before he started.

“In all of my searching, I could never have expected to find you. Or the love that I have for you. I adore you immensely and I believe in you to do the impossible.

The decision I made is to give you a chance—and the best chance of surviving.

I have spent years looking for options to drop the Veil. Corypheus was cataclysmic, and I have had more than 300 plans turn up without resolve. Even the idol cannot be found.

When I created the Veil, I bound it to my soul. For magic as colossal and widespread as the Veil, it needed to be anchored to something immortal that would withstand time. This would assure the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones were banished for good.   
At the time I did not, however, consider any need for the Veil to drop. I could not foresee severing Elves from the magic innately bestowed to them, destroying the Elvhen empire.

If I give you all of my power, you could face them. And fight them. And win against them. 

You could be the leader of the Pantheon and a new age of Elvhen magic.

I would transfer all of my magic to you…. With that act, I would pass. But you could then stand against the Evanuris, and facilitate the world embracing new means of magic.

You would carry out what I cannot.” Solas was still calm, but his voice was solemn.

Mara could finally breathe. She lifted her head from her hands, daring to look at Solas after his confession. She sucked in a sharp breath.

“No,” she stated firmly, yet quietly.

Solas opened his mouth with a huff. “Even if we were to find another way, the Evanuris and Forgotten Ones _will_ come for me. I am powerful, but I do not believe I can withstand their assault. I _will_ die, either by their hands or my own.”

Mara shook her head. “Let them come for me. I’d rather die knowing we had every chance.”

“That is a death sentence.” Solas answered in a whisper.

“Then I will die with you.” Mara paused. “What if you teach me the magic of your age? I was trained by my clan--but that training is small and insignificant in comparison. What if I could channel magic like you—surely, not as much--but it is another chance we have.”

Solas was quiet and closed his eyes. He had accepted some time ago that his death would be the means to drop the veil. He had accepted that he would be letting go of the world and its spirits of adventure, curiosity, wisdom, and compassion. He had accepted that pride had bested him, but that it protected the love of the woman before him.

“Please Solas,” Mara begged. “You say I am your equal. Allow me to be that.” Mara searched his face, turning in on the sofa to directly face him. “You are not bound to the fate you have already accepted. There is no fate. _We hold the power_.”

Solas met her eyes, her wonderfully deep and blue eyes with gold flecks near her iris. He had never known a love like hers. His eyes began to well as he continued looking into hers. She had seen his soul and deemed him worth saving. One tear threatened to escape his eye. “I will teach you what I can.” He agreed, pulling her close to kiss her forehead. He remained there, his lips on her forehead forming into a smile. “Your indomitable focus.” His voice was warm like honey.

“You shouldn’t expect any less.” Mara pulled back just enough to view his face. “No stone will be left unturned.” She met her promise with his full and wet bottom lip, biting and pulling on his lip. The residual anger flooded through her, sparking into desire. Flames lit in the depths of her. “Have me.” This was not a request, but a command.

Solas’ eyes darkened and he let out a low, throaty chuckle. The same hunger sparked within him, her command stoking his appetite. He recalled that her body was extra sensitive after a heated fight.

“Lay back,” he demanded, guiding her down onto the sofa with one hand on the small of her back. He began at her blouse, unbuttoning her blouse with his teeth, tonguing the skin of her chest. “Don’t move,” he murmured, looking up at her as her chest began to heave from his wet tongue. His touches were light, with his tongue, his fingertips, and his hands. He wanted to draw this out until her body ached from anticipation and teasing.

His touch moved in circles, increasing in pressure then moving to a new portion of skin to not give her the satisfaction just yet. He traveled from her ears, her jaw, her neck, down her chest, and circled her breasts. His tongue circled the area of her left breast, moving forward closer and closer to her nipple, then moving away just before reaching it. Her body stirred and longed to move with him. She couldn’t help but to heave her chest with his movements, and her hips to his. 

“Don’t move,” he whispered again, his breath unbelievably hot and moist on her skin. She stilled her body, but the throbbing was almost painful. When she finally stilled, her circled his tongue around breast, inching closer until finally reaching her nipple, giving a suck, then a circling flick. He moved his hands down her, pressing her clothes out of the way and moving two fingers within her, circling rhythmically. She let out a gasp, fighting every impulse to move her body with his and to the pleasure she frantically craved. As long as she stilled, he continued moving, alternating pressure and thrusts with his tongue and fingers. He made adjustments according to her sounds, each sound pleading more than its predecessor. He knew when she needed more, and gave her more with delay.

He introduced more fingers, knowing this was her breaking point. “You can move.” He breathed, breaking from her breast momentarily. She instantly began grinding, moving to where she needed with haste. He matched her pressure for a while, she was just on the cusp before he slowed down, halting. He adjusted, slipping himself into her warmth, hungrily taking him in. He moved with her rougher and with more intensity than usual. He laid just above her, his face at her temple, one hand in her hair and tugging, his other hand moving over her flower as they ground into each other. Her breathing became hitched, and he knew to drive harder, working her up to an audible gasp, letting himself go at the moment she released.

The air was sticky and humid with their affections. Her body, exposed, glistened with sweat. She had trouble catching her breath. He leaned into her hungrily, passionately kissing her, slipping his tongue in her mouth. She excited so much within him, and challenged him. Her heart was pure, she could stand against or unite nations, demonstrated pervasive strength, had unmatched brilliance, and exceedingly pleased him in bed. She was his equal, bested him in his strengths, but did not fault him for his challenges. He had never known a love like hers. He was undeserving but her kindness redeemed him. While his pride overshadowed him, she was the sun.


	12. The View Up Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12  
> Day 28 of Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020: Balacony
> 
> Balconies were witness to small, great, and pivotal moments between Mara and Solas, dispersed over their years of friendship, courtship, separation, and unity.
> 
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In the rotunda Solas was reserved, and yet there was a look in his eyes as he grappled with how to proceed. He had paced, deliberated, and mulled over ideas of the Inquisitor, and now she was before him, looking to him with such kindness.

“Do you have a moment?” Solas was torn asking this question, but he needed answers. Speculating their previous interactions alone left him curious and wanting.

“Of course,” Mara nodded with a small but warm smile, her heart rate quickening. He was someone aloof, alone with his thoughts and his secrets, keeping a distance between those in her company—and her too to an extent.

Except that he had led her to Haven in a dream, pulling her in for a returned kiss. He had let his guard down in that moment, and she anticipated she would receive an answer now to her own wonderings.

Mara led them out of the rotunda, through the great hall, and to the door of her bedchambers. No one dared to find her there, knowing that if he came to say they could no longer carry on, that she would at least have her privacy for her heartbreak.

This was the first time Solas had been in her bedchambers. Out of discomfort and a desire for open space, Solas led her to the balcony. It was a spectacular view with jagged and monumental mountains. The sight took her breath away every time, especially now as the inquisitive apostate stood before her.

He turned to her. “What were you like? Before the anchor?” He was measured with questions teeming on his lips, yet keeping some distance between them. “Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? ...Your mind, your morals? Your…spirit?”

Mara could tell he was searching for answers, and how she answered could impact the budding flirtation thus far. He sought answers if she had been changed by his magic—the magic that had fallen into the wrong hands. The magic that had been reserved to drop the veil.

The simple answer was no. His body language revealed that he was relieved somewhat, and a smile bore on his marvelous lips. He asked more questions of the responsibility of the Dalish in her upbringing and her decision making. She was her own agent, but she didn’t know what all these questions meant.

“It means I have not forgotten the kiss,” Solas was surprising in his transparency, and Mara took this opportunity before it fled. She stepped forward to him, already seeing the doubt within him. There was turmoil within him, but she stepped to close the gap between them.

Doubt overcame him and he began to turn away, but she placed a hand on his arm—her touch diminishing his doubt.

He turned to her, allowing himself to have her for the moment. Losing her would be…

~

The balcony was the only escape she had—the only place to calm her nerves and breathe in fresh air before the evening began.

He led her to the balcony, opulent in its pristine grandeur, white marble and golden laden in the construction. Everything around her was stunning, and yet an unavoidable doubt of belonging seized her. 

The sun was setting below the clouds spectacularly, gleaming with rich colors and an effervescent sparkle. In that moment the sunlight was drawn to her, highlighting her features. Her golden hair was curled and twisted into an elegant fishtail braid, her hair cascaded down her bare back. She was fitted into a couture pleated evening gown in blush with off the shoulder draped embellishments. It took everything within her not to fidget with her dress as she was more nervous than she had ever been for any other diplomatic moment.

“You are exquisite.” His voice was dreamy and sweet and calm. Solas was dressed in formal wear consistent with the Ancient Elvhen empire. He strolled and dazzled like a god. Mara was simply an elf, a mere remnant to the glory of the empire. And now she was asked to speak to the Pantheon on behalf of present day Elves and modern Thedas.

It was an incredible weight to bare. So much would be decided based on her accounts—being cross-examined in a ball gown did not make the moment more glorious. What she revealed could also be used in judgment of Solas for his actions against the Pantheon. They were not free yet and may not ever be. Her declarations could also sway how the Pantheon chose to rule over their people and Thedas. Her words could incite or quell a war from the Elvhen gods.

He could see the fluttering of worry behind her eyes, even though she masked it well to the bystander. “Vhenan,” his warm breath hit her like a wave of calm. While there could be onlookers, he knew his touch might be of some comfort. He brought his left hand to her face, gently grazing her while being careful of her hair and makeup. Her guard dropped at his touch, as it always did. In all the calamitous events she had survived, he always made her feel safe.

“Knock them dead,” he whispered, before leaning in to give her the softest kiss. While a word of encouragement, it may be something that will need to be done if the night were disastrous.

~

Back at Skyhold, the romance between Solas and the Inquisitor was almost indiscernible to the naked eye. Whisperings passed throughout the halls, but few witnessed a shared moment between the two more than a slightly-longer gaze. Conversations happened in private, either in strolls away from Skyhold or intimacy behind closed doors.

The Inner Circle was aware of their proceedings, but none had guessed the extent of the love they had for one another. It was only apparent after Solas had left the Inquisition.

Cullen had only witnessed one moment between Solas and the Inquisitor. It was at Celene’s palace in Halamshiral, after the Inquisitor had saved Celine from Florianne de Chalons. Cullen slowly strolled around the mezzanine of the ballroom, averting his eyes from prospective dance partners. He had narrowly avoided advances all evening and was relieved the evening was quieting down. He rounded the mezzanine and out of the corner of his eye saw movement on the balcony. He turned his head to see Solas leading a dance with the Inquisitor, pulling her in to kiss her softly, and was surprised to see the Inquisitor return his gesture. The two pulled apart, but there was tenderness Cullen had not expected.

Tonight Cullen witnessed the second private moment of Solas and the Inquisitor on the balcony. A different balcony—but the balcony of the current residence of the Inquisition. 

Cullen had been unable to fall asleep, and after hours of tossing and turning, decided to go for a walk on the grounds. Something kept him up.

Solas donned a dark cloak, but his profile was evident. Mara stood before him, one arm wrapped around her waist holding her close, one hand on her jaw.

Fear struck through Cullen. The Dread Wolf had found her and found them. Perhaps he had advanced in his plans to destroy the world and now came to take her as prisoner, or perhaps slay the remaining of the Inquisition before they could stop his plans.

From across the river, Cullen began sprinting to the fortress as the sight burned in his eyes. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Mara pulling up to embrace him.

Fear turned to fury, coursing through him as he bolted to the fort, running through the front doors, to the staircase, and up to the door of her bedchamber. The few who were still awake in the fort were stunned by his movements, scrambling to move out of his way.

Cullen’s blood was boiling and the sound of his own heart beat drowned out everything else around him. Cullen kicked in her door, his great sword unsheathed, his breathing heavy. He wasn’t certain _who_ he was more mad at, but he knew very well who he was disappointed in, and who he wanted to slay with the weapon he wielded. 

~

Solas and Mara abruptly turned to the door as it was kicked in, Solas swiftly stepped in front of her and cast a barrier around them. Cullen seethed in front of them, his knuckles turning white from the grip on his great sword.

“Cullen.” Mara stated as calmly as she could, but her adrenaline was already triggered. She stepped out of Solas’ protection, taking two steps closer to Cullen.

Cullen stared at the pair of them for what felt like centuries before speaking. His rage spun and morphed into other feelings—of disbelief, of betrayal, of hurt, then settling on wrath. “Are we just more agents of Fen’Harel, then? Just like the Antaam leader said in the Deep Roads.” His voice was sharp and dripped in disdain. “I trusted you, Inquisitor."


	13. Reparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13  
> Day 29 of Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020: Fen'Harel
> 
> Golden Boy witnesses the truth.
> 
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Mara tried to calm the panic within her. And the friend before her. Cullen had witnessed an intimate embrace on the balcony in the middle of the night. He was the first to see a united Solavellan. His reaction was to be expected.

“We are not the agents of Fen’Harel.” Mara answered steadily. She was ready for Cullen to spat back.

Cullen cocked his head with a sneer. “We’re just doing his bidding to destroy the world. I can’t _believe_ you’re at the front Inquisitor. I lost 6 years to you. And you’re just a…” His voice trailed before he called her a disgrace, changing course instead. “Why did you save me if _this_ is the world you’ll be burning to the ground?!”

“Because,” Mara began, taking one small step to him. Solas was still behind her but was tense in anticipation. “Because you’re my friend!” The words came out rushed, but were nevertheless true.

Cullen huffed, the great sword still in his hand poised for combat. He shook his head. “Who knew that demons came dressed as beautiful women.”

 _Ouch_. However harsh she had to get through to him, before a brawl broke out leaving him dead. “I can show you.” Solas had been teaching her the ways of ancient Elvhen magic since their last meeting in the Crossroads, and had tapped into new abilities. She made one small step forward, reaching out her arm slowly to Cullen who was now about about one meter away.

Whether Cullen acted in instinct, in fear, in surprise, in pain, or in distrust, the impact was the same. In one fluid motion he strode forward and charged his sword up into Mara’s chest. She gasped as the air was knocked out of her lungs. Her knees buckled and she gripped Cullen’s forearm as she fell, passing through her memories in her touch.

And suddenly, memories flooded him. But they were _her_ memories with _him_ and he distinctly _felt_ Mara’s emotions in those moments.

The moment she had met him at Haven, asking him all sorts of questions about Templar life, and being afraid that he wouldn’t truly see her. It was snowing.

The day Corypheus attacked Haven and their plan to bide time for the citizens to escape. His look of worry and bravery as she willingly chose to sacrifice herself for the people of Haven.

When they first arrived at Skyhold and she had commented if he ever slept. She worried that he wasn’t taking care of himself.

When he shared that he had stopped taking Lyrium—and that she genuinely cared for him.

When they played games in the courtyard and he shared information about his family. That she was amused by his skills but taken about how he spoke about his family.

How his presence at Halamshiral was comforting.

How the two schemed to destroy Samson’s armor—and his relentless dedication.

When he shared the falling of Kirkwall’s Circle, and how her heart broke for his pain. She also fully believed in his ability to quit Lyrium for good.

When another echo from his past turned out to be Maddox, and how she insisted on giving his old friend a funeral.

When they celebrated the defeat of Corypheus, but would have given anything to not feel alone.

After Solas had left, her memories were a haze. But the first memories--after Solas’ leave and after he donned the Fen’Harel title—those were clear memories of _him_.

He saw himself kneel before her at the fireplace, repeating her name until she finally turned. The sight of him was comforting and kind.

He watched her wake early for their first strength and agility training. He watched himself explain the purpose of the training, and felt the pain being ripped open after being avoided for so long. He felt her relief and her gratitude for him.

He saw her look forward to training with him and the confidence gaining within herself. In one of the training sessions, he felt her heart flutter briefly.

He felt her scream as she slept at one of their camps. He heard his own voice calling to her until she opened her eyes. He felt her terror, and the terror subside as she centered on him. 

He felt her heart pound as he watched himself place the Templar’s pendant on her, narrowly kissing her. She was scared but a small part anticipated it.

He saw her jump forward as the Antaam leader pierced him with her toxic sword. He saw her drop to her knees, shout instructions for antivenin and for Sister Laudine to join her magic. He felt her in complete despair, wailing on the inside, and begging for him to be saved. He saw her lose him, and her pulling his body to her in a tight hold. He distinctly felt her heart break at his passing, and pulling away ready to close his eyes, only for him to speak. He felt a burst of relief rivaling in grief. He felt that she loved him in her own way.

While she was scared he wouldn’t see her, she saw him in his entirety.

~

“NOOOOOOO!!!!” Solas growled in agony and fury, using veilstrike to knock back Cullen into the wall, shattering the stone walls. He ran to Mara and caught her just before she hit the floor, falling into a seated position. He propped her up in his arms, her body perpendicular to his. He pulled the great sword from her chest, blood pouring from her until he pressed his hand over her large wound, concentrating the healing magic.

Her mouth gaped open, her breathing erratic, her chest in spasms. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up to Solas. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were full in alarm.

In the corner of the room there was movement in the stone rubble. “Mara?” Cullen gasped in his own dread.

“YOU!” Solas snarled, still holding Mara in his arms as his ancient magic worked to heal her.  
“Don’t” Mara interjected with the softest whisper. It was all she could get out.

Solas’ eyes darted from Cullen back to Mara. She didn’t want him harmed--now that he knew he could trust her, even if he hated her. Solas closed his eyes, concentrating the last of the magic for her healing. Within a few minutes, her breathing had mostly turned to normal. Solas leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly, lucky he was just about the only soul in Thedas who could have saved her. He brushed a non-bloody hand through her hair.

Solas spoke up for Cullen to hear. “She doesn’t want me to hurt you, but if you’re a gentleman you will turn around so I can help change her into clothes without tears and her blood.” His voice was a low and throaty growl, as it took everything within him not to kill Cullen in a million excruciating ways.

Cullen was still seated against the cracked stone wall. He bowed his head and listened to the sounds of Solas helping Mara up, carrying her to the bathroom, washing off the blood from her body, changing her into a loose fitting tunic, then carrying her to her bed. Cullen listened to their exchange, daring to raise his head. “I am so sorry, Vhenan.” His voice sounded in pain but tender. He set her against the pillows, leaning forward to kiss her fondly. “Ar lath ma, Vhenan,” he whispered.

“At lath ma.” Her voice was faint, but the love in her eyes was unmistakable.

Solas paused before straightening his posture, darkness returning to his eyes as he looked over at Cullen against the wall. “There are matters to discuss, and I will not leave her. You may join me at the seating area.” Solas stood and walked over to a leather armchair closest to the bed, no more than 10 feet away from the bed. 

An invisible barrier around Cullen was released—a barrier that had kept him at bay while Solas tended to Mara. Cullen stood and slowly paced to the empty armchair. “Forget the sword.” Solas commanded as Cullen eyed the sword on the ground. With a wave of Solas’ hand, the puddle of blood was cleaned from the floor, but her blood remained on the sword as a reminder.

Cullen paused before proceeding to the chair.

Solas breathed in a sharp breath before beginning. “I had trusted you to keep her safe. I was sorely mistaken.”

Cullen was quiet as many conflicting feelings bombarded him. “Mara…she showed me memories. She showed me that we were friends.” Cullen’s voice was quiet as he battled with grief and confusion.

“And that surprises you?” Solas’ voice dripped in mockery and ridicule.

Cullen’s head had been bowed, he finally looked up to Solas. To Fen’Harel. To the architect of mass chaos and ending the world. Cullen had no response.

“She is not an agent of mine. Of Fen’Harel. All of her decisions were independent and made without me. Her actions were to prevent or minimize the effects of the veil dropping to the current world.

And as for me… Fen’Harel no longer lives—or rather the idea of a champion annihilating the world for the elves.

Fen’Harel was a name given to me many years ago, as a figure who lived between the great and the evil. The name sparked fear in the hearts of my enemies—but my true enemies, what today’s people understand as the Ancient Elvhen gods—they feuded with each other in petty matters and in nihilism. They lost sight of carrying for the Elvhen people, and their quarreling was of great cost to the elven. Mythal was the only member of the Pantheon who saw things differently-who cared for the Elvhen.

The Pantheon did not take kindly to dissent, and so they executed Mythal. And out of vengeance and protection of the elves, I banished the Pantheon and the Forgotten ones so they could no longer destroy themselves and the elves. Thus the veil was created. But doing so disrupted the magic innate to the Elvhen. An unintended and ruinous consequence to my people. I rebelled to save them, but saving them cost the people their gifts and status.

Creating the veil required grand amounts of magic that took millennia to recover my strength. When I awoke to a world, it was a world unfamiliar to me. My action to protect my people ended in their ruin. Guilt and devastation followed me.

I still wish to drop the veil, but as justice. And Mara has shown me there may be ways to do so peacefully.” Solas paused, allowing Cullen to follow the story.

“I only found her a few months ago. As I’m sure you can attest, the Inquisition have been excavating tomes for ancient magic, meeting with Elvhen clans across Thedas, and collecting allies for more than a year. That was all her.”

Cullen paused and then nodded.

“I came to her just a few months ago. And because of her…I have changed my course. And that of followers in my name.” Solas paused to look at her resting in her bed, having fallen asleep as it was the early morning now. “We are still figuring out what it means for each other and our plans. But I wish no harm for the world.”

Cullen was in disbelief and didn’t trust him just yet. “So the villain just lays down his plans? Just like that?”

Solas exhaled a breath before responding. “For her, yes…She is worth more than my pride.”

Remarkably, Cullen understood that. It was sinking in that he had attempted murdering his friend, of a woman who always acted in compassion and gave grace to those in her company.

“You should have killed me.” Cullen whispered while looking down at his hands. How was it possible that he drove his sword through her chest?

“I would have…But she asked me not to.” Solas’ words humbled Cullen. His stomach felt sick, but he marveled over her choices. She had saved him twice in the recent present. She did not convict him to a fate while he had not shown her that mercy.

“It was a matter of time, but we should schedule to speak with the Inner Circle in private. Soon. There will be a long road ahead of us.” Solas was surprisingly calm and poised. “Can I trust that you will wait to share this information until after she decides? _And_ recovers?” The spite was woven into his tone.

Cullen solemnly nodded. “I don’t know if I trust you just yet, or if I ever will…but don’t leave her again. You weren’t here to see her become the shell of a woman she once was. It took _everything_ to bring her back. And a part of her was always gone.”

“I won’t” Solas vowed.


	14. Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14  
> Day 30 of Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020: Solavellan
> 
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The morning sunlight streamed through the glass windowpanes of the balcony door. The sunlight warmed all that it touched.

Mara stirred under the sheets, moving to her side and cozying in with the comforter and her pillow. There was a presence beside her. Mara squinted as the sunlight was too bright.

“Solas?” She asked, her breath scratchy. “Am I dreaming?”

There was movement in the bed as the sheets tugged and released. Solas turned to his side, facing Mara directly as her eyes were mostly closed. “Good morning Vhenan.” Solas’ voice was tired and warm. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I am here. I couldn’t leave you.” With his right hand he caressed the hair from her face, tucking the blonde hair behind her ear.

Her eyes opened more to sleepily view him. “You’re here.” Her voice, while soft, had a tone of surprise.

It was a reasonable response. In the few months since Solas let her in, their meetings were brief—meeting in the Crossroads, in her dreams, or finding her at night in whatever fortress the Inquisition occupied at the moment. With the delicacy and secrecy of their reunion, he was unable to stay the whole evening to join her in the morning. He would often find her in her dreams, only to hold and comfort her as she slept.

This was the first time he had stayed the entire night.

Mara shifted her weight, adjusting her pillows, and winced as she let out a gasp. There was a sharp and burning pain just below her sternum. She remembered in flashes.

Cullen has seen her and Solas embracing on her balcony after midnight. He had stormed to her room and treated her as a traitor. She reached out her hand to him, and without pause he stepped forward, driving his sword through her. Remembering the sequence made her feel the burning betrayal all over again.

“Mara,” Solas quickly moved to help her to a less painful position in the bed, setting her against the pillows.

She shook her head as questions flooded her. Were they safe? Why hasn’t her bedroom been stormed by the charges? Who has Cullen told? Would they come for her and Solas today?

“I don’t remember what happened...after...” her voice trailed and trembled. She couldn’t say it. _After he tried to kill me._

Solas nodded, laying on his side and propped with his left elbow. His right hand found hers and laced their fingers. “I bound him to a corner of the wall as I took care of you. I was able to close your wound, but I take it it still hurts quite a bit. I cleaned you up and carried you to the bed to rest. You fell asleep shortly after.

Then Cullen and I talked. I shared with him that my course of action has changed.” Solas paused searching her face. “You shared your memories with him as he...struck you. Whatever you shared with him worked. Although he may not trust me, he believes you.” Her face changed in a flurry of emotions.

“Has he told anyone?” Mara asked. They hadn’t even discussed their plan to tell their friends yet.

Solas shook his head. “I asked for him to wait to say anything until you decide. And when you have recovered. He agreed. And... he feels remorse. He didn’t directly say it, but it was evident in his body language”.

At that she looked down to her chest. Solas had changed her into a loose fitting tunic with a keyhole neckline. She unraveled the tassels at the top of her neck, pulling away the draped fabric. There was a faint, four inch golden scar just below her sternum. The scar faintly shimmered like her left arm. It was the same Elvhen magic.

To Solas it was another reminder of the impact of his choices on Mara. His magic foci fell into her hand, slowly killing her. He had removed her arm to save her and more than year later led her to ancient armor in the Deep Roads that would become her new arm.

And now his choice to come back to her and change the route of his plans ended in her Commander attempting to murder her for her suspected treason. Every time he was intimate with her it would be a painful reminder of the continuous misery and harm he brought her.

He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on that thought. “We won’t be bothered today. Cullen’s telling the staff you’re under the weather so we will be left alone.”

Mara thought about what this meant. “...We have a whole day to ourselves?” A smile formed at the realization. They had never had that, even in the early Inquisition days.

“All day in bed,” There was a smirk on his lips. She raised her eyebrows at the mischievous glint in his eyes, letting out a laugh.

Solas’ demeanor suddenly became serious as he straightened, moved out of the bed, and walked to the door to her bedchamber. He paused before opening, then bent down to pick up a wooden tray with a pot of coffee, mugs, plates, and an assortment of breakfast food. He walked back to the bed, shirtless with only thin linen pants.

“I had Cullen ask for your meals to be brought up today, and I cast a protective barrier to trigger when someone gets close to your room, and used a charm to silence the room and our conversations.”

Wow. Multiple layers of protection. “Good thinking,” Mara replied, eyeing the food. Her eyes widened at the pancakes and sausage and coffee. At the sight she realized her hunger and her fatigue. She began to prop herself up to get up to dine at the small table in the room.

Solas chuckled. “We’re having breakfast in bed. Get back there.” He released and locked the legs of the breakfast tray, setting it down over her lap. After doing so, he crawled back into the bed. “I know you don’t have it often, but I distinctly remembered your fondness for pancakes.”

His sweetness tugged at her heart. Their courting had never been normal, and it may not ever be, but today could be a chance to pretend—even if it were a string of small moments.

Mara beamed at his fondness and at seeing him in natural sunlight. He was devastatingly handsome and the sunlight emphasized his strong features. She suddenly wanted him for breakfast.

She looked down at her pancakes to focus herself, then back up to him. “Thank you.” Solas sat across from her, the tray between them. He lifted himself and leaned forward to kiss her, sensing her longing to embrace.

“Eat up,” he instructed just after. “We have a lot to talk about today. And do. You need your strength.” 

Her mind stuck on _to do_. She was sure he could find a gentle way to make love to one another, even as she was recovering.

Solas poured her coffee and creamer for her, passing her the mug. “So… at the end of my discussion with Cullen, we agreed it’s time to inform the Inner Circle.”

Mara took a drink of her coffee and then cleared her throat. “I was thinking that too.” She set the mug back on the tray to pour syrup over the pancakes. “But how do we do that in a way that doesn’t disenfranchise the Inquisition and the gains we’ve made so far?” She began cutting the pancakes with a fork and knife “…Or repeat last night with Cullen?” 

Mara and Solas hadn’t yet talked about the future for their followers and allies. “What does this mean for our people?” More evident than ever, she realized this was what needed to be done today. 

Solas remained quiet for a moment. Today would decide much for them and their future. “You should request to meet with your Inner Circle soon. I anticipate in a few days you will have the strength to resume travel.”

Mara nodded after taking a bite. “Away from here. A safe house where we control the details and security. I can send for a messenger to leave today with the summons.” She cut her sausage links. “Do you want to be there?”

This was a loaded question. The reactions of the Inner Circle would likely align with Cullen’s initial response. “I will be there if you want me to, but I understand the peril the conversation bodes.” His response was characteristically composed.

“I imagine they will have questions, but I should start the conversation with them alone. I would like you there nearby.” She wanted him with her always. “What should I tell them?”

Solas drank some of the water in front of him before answering, selecting his words. “You can tell them the truth—that the journey of my plans have changes. While I wish to still drop the veil, I want to do so peacefully. And,” he paused, as new information was about to pass through his lips. “I will offer all who follow in my name to your bidding to drop the veil peacefully.”

“What?” Mara almost dropped the coffee mug in her hands out of surprise. “You… I mean we haven’t discussed…” She tilted her head as this was unexpected.

“There are tens of thousands at my disposal. Many should be able to help in some way—whether that is to assist the clans you’ve allied with as peacekeepers when the veil drops. Or if already corrupted demons surface and they need to be stopped. Or if some nation tries to fortify an army of demons. What I have is yours.”

Her eyes widened in marvel. She pushed the breakfast tray away from them, grasping his wrist to bring him close to her. She met his beautiful lips with hers in such gratitude. “Solas,” she breathed, her lips still on his. Thanks were not enough.

He hovered over her, careful not to put pressure on her chest. He kissed her back firmly, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He ran his hand through her hair then cradled her head. He pulled his head back just enough to speak. “I’m yours.” His breath was hot against her face. She wanted him. She kissed him back and tugged on his lower lip.

She was surprised when he withdrew and paused. He reached over to the bedside table where her necklace was scattered on the surface. He picked it up in his hands and brought it to her line of sight.

“Last night when I helped you change, I noticed the sword cut through the necklace chain. It will no longer carry my ring.” He paused as he held up his ring to her again. “I was hoping you would now.”

Mara looked down to the ring and then back to Solas. When Solas had given her his ring, it replaced the pendant of a necklace she already wore. It was their promise to each other as they kept it from the world. When Solas had given her his ring, she didn’t have a left hand. He since led her to ancient armor in the Deep Rods that meld with her arm magically.

She nodded, Solas taking her left hand in his right, sliding the gold ring onto her finger. The ring buzzed with warm magic and whispered of the Fade. He rolled his thumb over the ring as it slid on. “I know it is not much, but it is the ring I’ve had since creating the Veil. It has belonged to me for some time.” He looked up to her realizing she was glowing in adoration. “Forgive me for not knowing, but I think rings come in sets now with stones. Is that correct?”

She nodded, singularly focused on him and wanting him.

“We can search for something to complement it.” Solas added, but Mara didn’t care at the moment.  
“And one for you.” She sighed dreamily before pulling him into another kiss. She had love to share in the rarely seen daylight. “I want you.” Her statement was simple, but the weight of it was understood by the flame lit in his eyes.

He nodded, pulling the tunic from her body and removing his own garment. He pulled her so that she was positioned and supported by the pillows. He was afraid to hurt her and vowed to be gentle, even if she couldn’t move too much. 

The golden daylight added a film of magic not often felt by the dark. He could see her in her entirety, the sunlight glowing on her skin. Every delicate flutter of emotion on her face was no longer shrouded by the darkness. He could enjoy her more fully and felt more present with her than ever. He kissed her sensually, thoroughly as he worked her up with tenderness. Her skin was an invitation for worship, vowing to please every inch of her delicately with his lips and hands. An exploration of her body made him fall in love with her all over again as if it were new, and in a way it was beginning again, but this would endure for centuries to come.

He adjusted his touches as she needed, rolling his body with hers, and continuing until alas release. He hovered over her, smiling, moving some hair away from her face. “You are so beautiful.” His breathing was heavy along with hers. He leaned in and kissed her again, before trailing kisses down her neck, her clavicle, and to her chest. He looked down to see her new golden scar, considering an idea. “Mara?” He asked, looking to her eyes as his body hovered over hers.

Out of breath she replied, “yes, Vhenan?” She admired that sight of him.

“I don’t think I can remove this scar for you, but I may be able to…transform it.”

She didn’t know what he was getting at. “What do you mean?”

“In a way, I could paint magic on your skin, transforming the scar into something else. Like a tattoo—but golden.”

Mara was amazed, and then thought of the frescos he had painted in the rotunda, his gift to the Inquisition. _His gift to her_. She nodded and smiled. “What did you have in mind?” This was uniquely thoughtful.

“Well…” he shifted his body weight to one arm as he laid over her, trailing his fingertips close to her scar. He looked over the scar and imagined different figures. His brows furrowed as he thought. Mara admired the sight of him like this. She enjoyed watching his mind work and the wry look he holds when he’s clever.

He continued. “I could paint a small flower using the existing lines. Something delicate yet refined.” He looked up to her gaze for an answer. “What do you think?”

“I love it.” Another surprising gift to her. “You’re wonderful.” She added.

For the first time in a long time, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turned a little red. It was endearing.

“I can do so now, if you’re ready.” He looked up to her and returned her smile. “I will cast some numbing magic so you don’t feel anything when I paint over the scar. And you can’t move.”

Mara nodded as she took a moment to quiet her body. Solas got up and went to his cloak, pulling out something. _He carries paint brushes with him_. He was full of charming surprises today. When he returned she couldn’t help but to smirk, but tried to calm her body again.

Solas returned and waved a hand over her chest, numbing so that she could not feel his fingertips against her skin. She looked at him as he wore a puzzled look, then his gaze softened. He was decided and committed. He raised a paintbrush with a small head to her skin, magic buzzing from his hand to the paintbrush. He set it against her skin, and as his hand moved with great measure, gold shimmered onto her skin, as if it were gold foil. She marveled as he continued carefully for about 20 minutes. She watched him pause, lifting the paintbrush, then blew warm air onto her skin.

“I am done.” He announced, skepticism in his eyes. The gold flower in its simplicity was also intricate and indeed delicate. It was as if he had captured her as a flower.

“You’re amazing, Solas,” Mara was breathless. “Can I move so I can kiss you?”

He let out a low, throaty chuckle, meeting her halfway. “Yes, Vhenan.”


	15. Residence (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time before the tell.
> 
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The invitations were sent to the rest of the Inner Circle to meet in three day’s time. It would take a full day to hike to the inherited estate, not far into Orlais from the Nevarran border. Mara decided they would leave the next morning and was met with Solas’ protests, stating she should get another day of rest before travel. She would not have of it, and countered that if they were to leave the next morning they would have a day there at the estate to rest before the Inner Circle joined them.

“Have you forgotten that I have faced worse than a day’s travel?” Mara briefly looked to Solas as she filled a travel pack with clothes before lining up daggers on the dresser. “Do you think I have gone soft?”

Solas stood a few feet from her, watching her as she organized the contents of the pack. He was surprised by the daggers. He crossed his arms, furrowing his brow. “Not at all. I recognize that we are afforded some leniency in time. We do not have to leave until you are ready.”

“I’ll be ready in the morning.” She was definitive and not willing to discuss it further. She paused after she set her leather holsters on the dresser, next to the dagger. “…Do you need to be back?” This was the longest time they had spent since the days of Inquisition, and it hadn’t even been a solid 24 hours. Come to think of it, she didn’t know _where_ he and his followers stayed.

“I have some time. Besides, this meeting greatly concerns us both.” Solas released his arms from his protested stance, taking a step closer to her. He took her left hand in his right, bringing her hand up to his lips. “I marvel at all you have done on your own.”

She lifted her eyes to his gaze, viewing him fully. Wonderfully handsome, but there was tiredness behind his eyes. She wondered if he had even slept the night before or if he had just watched over her. She pulled him into a hug, lifting herself on her toes to reach him better. “I did what was necessary.” In the simplicity of the statement, it was true. “Come to bed with me. I need my rest.” This concession was for him too. She pulled his hand, leading him to her bed. He obliged, climbing into the bed and under the covers. She lay to his left, facing away. Solas turned to his left side, slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. The two slept in tandem as they let their guards fall.

~

It was quiet, other than Solas’ soft breathing as he slumbered deeply next to her. Mara began to stir, opening up her eyes to the dark blue of the early morning. She began to stretch in place, realizing Solas’ arm was still securely around her. A warm smile spread on her lips at the closeness.

She turned to her other side, facing him as he slept. As her eyes adjusted, the silhouette of his face became more pronounced. His features were softened, as if he no longer carried the burden of centuries. He looked _peaceful_ , sorely a look hardly seen on him. She pulled him to her, placing her lips gently on his to give him the softest kiss. The spectacle of him made her amorous.

After a few seconds Mara felt Solas’ lips push into hers gently at first, gradually increasing in pressure as he woke. “Mara?” Solas asked, his forehead pressing against hers.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” She blurted in a whisper. “Your lips…You draw me in.”

His mouth cocked into a smile. “Don’t apologize.” He ran a hand through her hair, pulling her in closer.

She let out a little moan as the fire lit within her, slipping her tongue in his mouth. His grip on her tightened and she moved her body against his in response. She felt him rise against her stomach, hardening. With her own appetite surging, she lifted herself up, helping him shift from his side to his back. She straddled him, lowering herself over him, swiveling her hips against him. He was still in his linen pants, and the barrier was a tease both ways.

She lined herself so that she was over him, and breathed into his ear. Her hands trailed from his broadened bare chest, over his shoulders, down his arms, up and then back down abdomen, lower until finally tracing the length of him, ending in a firm tug at his base.

Solas let out a breath of air as she touched him, sliding and moving her grip on him, still over his pants. “Mara,” Her name was drawn out as she continued to tease him. She gave a few rhythmic tugs, rubbing her thumb over the head. She raised an eyebrow when he failed to stifle a moan. He was an incredibly attentive lover who indulged her every whim, fantasy, and need. She sought to be the same for him—his equal—but she worried of never living up to the realms of pleasure he gave her.

She scooted down his body, settling near his abdomen. Her hands pulled and tugged down his body, from his chest to his hips, giving him firm squeezes. She returned her attention to the warmth in front of her, blowing warm air over him as she untied the laces to his pants, pulling them until they came off. She gave him gentle rubs in circles, changing the pattern with embellishments and adding pressure as his breathing indicated. She lowered her mouth to him, trailing the length with her tongue before giving him a kiss, followed by attentive rubs. She continued, adding features with her tongue and fingers, listening to the sounds escape his lips.

His excitement ignited her arousal and she began to ache. She craved for him to fill her and move with her. She lifted her head up to speak. “Solas?” Her voice was a plead. “Can I join you?” He nodded without speaking, running a hand over his face to calm himself. Mara crawled forward, using her hands to guide him in, moaning in relief as she sunk down on top of him. Her walls ached in longing, hungrily taking him in. She sat up right, circling her hips on him. _How was it possible for him to feel this good_? Solas was the only one she had given herself to, and he evoked such a strong, carnal desire within her that she felt blinded by her infatuation. But it was more than infatuation. She was completely, devoutly in love with him. _He had bewitched her—body and soul_.

Mara gasped as Solas jutted his hips forwards, hitting right where she needed. She ground into him, rolling her hips fiercely over him. Solas roamed his hands over her body, over her breast, settling one hand on her backside to pull her in, one hand moving to her. She dug her nails into his legs, leaning her head back as she started to rise.

Solas admired the view and the woman above him. Between the haze of his own pleasures rising, he caught her flurry of surprises, smiles, and rosiness on her face. He wished he could watch her forever, and gave every hope in the chance he could. It would be, however, against all odds.

He drove her a little harder, careful not to hurt her. She had told him the added intensity pushed her over the edge when she’s ready. Her continued moans told him she was ready, as he was too. Solas pushed more, swirling his fingers in her folds until alas she was silent, followed closely by a wail and a full body tremble. With her wail he released, shuddering briefly after.

Breathing heavy, Solas scooted back to sit up with her, her legs arched over his. He pulled her closely, his hands on her face. He cradled her head in his hands and she looked back to him dreamily with an indisputable smile. She began to laugh and it echoed through the bedroom. “Good morning,” she whispered.

“Good morning Vhenan,” Solas returned after a heavy sigh. “That’s quite a way to wake up.”

Mara laughed and bashfully hid her face in her hands. 

“Don’t hide from me.” His words were kind and warm. He covered her hands with his, pulling them away, only to lean forward to meet his lips with hers, kissing her thoroughly. She sunk into his happily.

Solas pulled back to view her, searching her eyes. Her love readily flowed forth and poured into him. Her love was evident and enticing.

Solas thought of Cullen’s last words from the night before, echoing through him in crushing waves.

 _You weren’t here to see her become the shell of a woman she once was. It took_ everything _to bring her back. And a part of her was always gone._

Solas had never doubted Mara’s strength or her resiliency. He believed for years she would be better for his leaving, and that his leaving had saved her. He recalled her searching for him through the Fade and he always stayed just beyond her grasp. It took everything to stay in limbo—keeping tabs on all her movements but staying far enough away so she could not capture him.

He longed for her, but his pride believed it was best to stay away.

But to hear from the words from her Commander, that while she carried on…he broke her. And it was unmistakable to those in her company. Hearing those words untied wounds heavy wounds far scarred.

And for Mara to give her love freely now…It chastened him. But he could not discuss it now.

Mara understood this look of great sadness, when his mind churned with grim and unfavorable thoughts. “Solas?” She began with kindness and a small smile. “Would you like to shower with me?”

Her voice grounded him, returning him to the present. “Of course.” This may be the most time they have alone for a while and he happily gave into her requests. 

Mara got up from the bed, pulling his hand and leading him to the master bathroom. There was an open stone shower with multiple spigots on the walls and two waterfall shower heads on the ceiling. The first light of daybreak began to spill into the room. They would have to leave shortly after showering, but she relished the time to spend with him. She pulled a fresh towel from the linens for him and turned on the water.

Solas followed her, watching her move in the dim lighting, bare and tantalizing. She carried herself purposely and gracefully. He waited for her to get into the shower, following shortly after. The water was hot and already beginning to fog. Mara liked the water a little hotter than he preferred, but the enjoyment of her fully relaxing in the water outweighed any want to request it a little cooler.

Solas watched her lean her hair back in the water then lather with shampoo. Floral scent swirled in the air as she did this. He watched as the lather slid down her skin. She turned to him, lathering soap in a loofa, and began to wash his shoulders. She moved the loofah the breadth of his shoulders in small, gentle circles.

“Mara,” Solas whispered as she affectionately washed him. “You’re too sweet.”  
She looked up to him and suddenly felt too vulnerable. She opened her mouth, closing it shortly after. Her hand dropped.

“You are my equal. You do not have to do things for me.” He watched her face as she became closed off, the opposite intent of his words. “But… you’re doing this to be kind,” he realized. He snaked an arm around her waist, raising his other hand to her hair. “I see that now. I apologize.” He nudged her head to lean back into the water stream, and with one hand ran his fingers through her hair, helping to rinse the shampoo from her hair. He met her kindness with his own. Letting her into these small moments would take some getting used to, but swore to continue trying.

She lifted her head from the water after the shampoo had rinsed, and the two gazed into each other for some time. Any awkwardness dissipated the longer they regarded one another. The moment ended in a kiss to Mara’s forehead, continuing the rest of their bathing routine. 

Out of the shower, Mara began to dress as she towel-dried her hair. She pulled on her garments, strapping daggers to thigh holsters and an additional knife within her coat. She double checked her packs and any last items in her dresser. They could be gone 4 or 5 days, or longer depending on the planning or resistance of the Inner Circle.

When her pack was ready, she formed her hair into a braid. “Our food pack will be ready for us downstairs when we head out.” Mara paused, knowing they couldn’t leave together just yet.  
  


“I can leave now, just ahead of you. I will silence and cloak my movements.” Mara trusted his ability to evade her agents. He had done so brilliantly for years. She nodded. “There is a lone tree that was struck and split by lightning about a mile west of here. I will wait for you there.”

“See you soon,” she called out to him, just before he walked out the door. With a nod he was gone.

She let out a sigh and thought about what the next few days _could_ look like. She didn’t quite know how she was going to tell the Inner Circle, but she hoped they would at least hear her out. She accepted that there might be outrage and weapons drawn—as with Cullen. She recognized that she may lose some or all of the Inner Circle. Could the Inquisition carry on and transition the world if she were to lose core members? Could the fleet Solas promise be enough? Would the world be worth living if she had lost her friends?

Her doubt threatened to flood her and she could not allow it to win. A lot will happen within the next few days and reactions may be strong, but she owes it to her friends to be transparent and respect their genuine responses.

It had been long enough. Mara strapped her staff to her back and headed out the door of her bedchamber.

~

Mara made it down the stairs to the great hall, finding the food packs left on a table for her. “Good morning Inquisitor. I hope you are well.” Nola, their messenger, approached Mara.

“I am well, thank you Nola.” Mara lifted a food pack over her shoulder.

“Commander Cullen wanted to inform you that he will meet with you in a few days.” Nola continued.

Mara nodded, understanding the statement to mean he had already left and needed some time before joining the rest of the Inner Circle. “Thank you, Nola. Enjoy your day.” Mara gave Nola a smile, as Nola bowed their head until the Inquisitor passed through the doors.

It was only 30 minutes after sunrise, the golden glow of the East began to bleed into the West that Mara faced. From her estimations, and with a leisurely pace, she estimated the hike would be about 10 hours. 

Within moments she found herself at the struck tree, searching for the wolf, suddenly appearing from shrouded magic.

“May I take those for you?” Solas asked, gesturing to her added food packs.

“You may take one,” Mara offered, handing him a single pack. While kindness was her choice, she remained set in her ways to care for herself and her wellbeing. “Thank you.”

A thin smile pursed his lips. Her acceptance and rebuttals to courtship pleasantries puzzled him. She chose to care for him in her own way, but did not always accept his gestures. Perhaps many customs had changed over the course of centuries. More possible of an answer was her chosen stubbornness. The thin smile turned to a smirk. Every facet of her astounded him.

He accepted the single pack, slinging it over his shoulder.

They began and continued in silence. It’s a marvelous thing to be in another’s company, content to enjoy the view in serenity. It was several hours before either spoke.

“I’ve been thinking,” Mara began after navigating crossing a stream. “When I meet with the Inner Circle tomorrow night, I think I should speak with them alone. I anticipate they will need time to review your offer. Perhaps you could join us for the discussion in the morning?”

Solas nodded, understanding her hesitation. “Leliana and Cassandra could have their own initial reservations. I will leave it up to your discretion.”

“Thank you for understanding, Solas.” She brandished a smile and continued on their way.

In a few hours they approached a timely three story stone estate. It was well-maintained, and quite far from any path. Shade trees dotted the scenery along with dashing nugs. This was her first time visiting the estate, acquiring the home and land about 2 years ago. It had every bit of charm she had hoped for in a home. Alas, this was just a temporary residence. As with every residence of the Inquisition. It dawned on her that she may never have one place to call home again.

Solas noted the charming effect the estate had on her while they climbed to the master suite on the top floor. “How did the Inquisition come by this estate?”

“Something that Josephine managed before her leave. I’m not quite sure of the details, but she always was a mastermind in negotiations.” Mara set her packs down before slowly spinning to take in the view. “It’s lovely here.” The master suite was spacious with vaulted ceiling, and ceiling to floor windows capturing a breathtaking view of the countryside and mountains.

“Do you mind if I shower before we settle in and have dinner?”

“Not at all,” he smiled toward her. “Take it easy. You _are_ still recovering.”

She would never admit it to him, but she was more tired than usual from the day’s journey. She waltzed to the master bath and began to remove her armor and clothes to relax to the comforts of the warm shower.

When she was done she wrapped herself in warm clothes and a robe, heading down the staircase to the first floor. A waft of a savory scent filled the air as she approached the first floor landing. Sconces lining the corridor were lit with low and warm flames. “Solas?” She called out, looking for his presence in the shadows. 

Solas strolled out coolly from the dining room, dressed in a clean and dark attire fitting for a courting evening between lovers. He was captivating as he strolled to her, holding out his arm. “Vhenan. Dinner is ready.”

She opened her mouth, feeling underdressed in a robe. She took his arm and allowed him to lead her to the dining room. The dining room was lit in dozens of flickering candles, and the dining table formally set in dinnerware and multiple platters of food. “You did all of this?” She anticipated a simple spread, not a picturesque dinner scene. Platters of roasted vegetables, rolls, and fileted meat graced the table.

Nothing about their courtship or their engagement was normal, and it may not quite ever be. He decided to provide some sense of normalcy when the day or evening allowed, constructing small moments of romance to relish. “A date with you, Vhenan. We rarely are afforded these moments.” He led her to a chair near the crackling fireplace to keep her warm. He pulled out her chair, kissing her wrist as she sat down. She had never been with someone as attentive to the ways of courtship.

“Thank you for this, Solas. It looks wonderful.” She eyed the food and her mouth began to water. It truly looked wonderful, and she was hungry and fatigued from the march to the estate.

“You’re very welcome,” He joined her at the table sitting next to her instead of across. He waited to fill his plate until she had filled hers. She was a few bites into their meal before she spoke.

“I’m a little nervous,” she admitted, watching as Solas poured her a sweet red wine. She seldom admitted when she was anxious. Tomorrow her secret life would unravel, in the hopes that her companions understood. She was apprehensive in the delivery of Solas’ offer to her Inner Circle, but was perhaps more apprehensive of their deduction that she and Solas were together—and had made a promise to one another. It had taken months for Solas and her to sort through their own feelings and determine what it means to be in each other’s lives. And tomorrow her personal life would be front and center.

“I understand. But they also have been faithful in their service to you. They are your friends.” He draped his arm over the top of her chair.

She drank a sip of wine before answering, nodding. “I just hope they hear me out.” She doubted she could survive another gutting. He read her worries, and he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

“Nothing is impossible for you, Mara. You have a way of defying the odds every time.” His eyes alone were enough for her to believe him. He had a way of looking at her that made her believe the impossible in that one day the Fade could be something as common and flowing as the wind. Perhaps they could live out their days in the restored Arlathan.

Perhaps.

If anything, they at least had each other tonight.

With him she managed to face all of her insecurities. And he stood by her side as she defeated them all.

“Thank you Solas.” It was all she could manage, but she was sincere. He leaned in to her to kiss her forehead before continuing on with dinner.

As the evening wore on, her noted her fatigue. But she would never admit her wound was a hindrance to her. Sometimes she too was afflicted with pride. “I’ll be ready for bed soon. I’ll put away the food, then meet you upstairs?”

She nodded in agreement, her only concession in that she was truly exhausted.

When Solas final came up the staircase to their master suite, he found Mara already fast asleep in the bed—as anticipated. A low chuckle escaped him in his own pride of being right. He walked over to her and knelt, stroking her hair as she slumbered soundly. Upon acknowledging that she was truly asleep, he walked over to the wooden desk in a far side of the suite, waving his hand to turn on an oil lamp at the desk. He took out parchment and a wax seal, and began penning a letter. 


	16. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dread Wolf's offering.
> 
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Cullen was the last to arrive at the stone house, bringing the rain in with him and a disagreeable mood. Mara had not seen him since his own hand drove his sword into her chest. Panic rose in her at his sight. She braved looking at him, holding a neutral look as trepidation overtook her from within. Cullen dropped his gaze and looked to everyone but her.

“Cutting it close, Commander,” Cassandra began. She had arrived close to an hour before the scheduled time. She was standing in the entryway between the living room and the dining room. Leliana had found space to lean against the opposite wall.

“The rain caused a mudslide on my route.” Cullen answered. This could have been true, but it was much more likely he waited until the last minute for this meeting. “Am I the last to arrive?”  
  


“Yes.” Leliana responded sharply. She wagered a war internally, hardening since leaving Skyhold, giving mercy to few. “We should get started.”

Mara stood from the leather armchair, leading the way into the adjacent dining room, the Inner Circle following her shortly after. The dining room was filled with dark wood accents and a grey stone fireplace across from the dining room table. There were 6 chairs of soft-grain leather, two chairs on the longer sides of the table, one on each of the ends. Mara took the chair across from the door with the fireplace behind her. Leliana and Cassandra took the chairs on the long side across from Mara. Cullen trailed in, taking a seat at one of the lone ends, his eyes down.  
“Is that a new sword, Commander?” Cassandra asked as she took her seat. It was not the normal sword he carried. Truth was, he could no longer carry that sword with the daily reminder of the Inquisitor taking the brunt of it.

“I am upgrading,” He decided, sitting at the end. There was shuffling in the silence.

“So what marks this occasion, Inquisitor? It has been some time since we were all in one room.” Leliana already had her ideas for the reason, but waited to hear the Inquisitor speak.

“We have been considerably successful in gaining allies and collecting favors, refining our influence. We have secured the alliance of the Antivan Crows through Senor Viago De Riva. He deeply appreciated our forces assisting to drive out the Qunari invading Antiva. Senior De Riva has since provided delicate information in the contracts the Crows have received, allowing us to trace and anticipate additional movements from the Qunari.

We have also visited more than two dozen Elven clans across Thedas, many of whom have pledged their support as peacekeepers should the veil drop. We are currently deciphering old Elvhen magic forgotten to the Deep Roads.

Our reports of the movement of the Dread Wolf and his followers have gone dark in recent months. 

He showed himself at our ambassador meeting, in which we sent Charter as our representative. As from the report, the Dread Wolf only spared our own.”

Mara took the briefest pause before continuing.

“He has evaded all our searches and contacts. Until now.”

The mood in the room thickened, the gravity of her last sentence plaguing tension and fatal skepticism.

Mara looked to each of her companions in the room, meeting their gaze with measured poise.

“I ask for you to heed my words. If not as your Inquisitor, then as a friend.”

The look Leliana gave to Mara could have killed her—if Leliana possessed Solas’ power to petrify others with a glance.

Cullen moved his hand to find the drink before him, startling Mara into a noticeable flinch. Cassandra and Leliana both furrowed their brows.

Mara breathed in to steady herself. “He found me. And…his course has changed.”

Cullen kept his eyes low and began tapping his fingers on the table. A stiff breath left Cassandra’s nostrils, annoyed at the pace and subject of the news.

“He has ordered his followers to withdraw plans to instigate hostilities with the Qunari and the Imperium. This aligns with our silent feed.

The goal to drop the veil remains, but his strategy has changed.”

Mara looked to the expression of her companions, awaiting their mutiny. The jaw on Cassandra tightened so much that she was afraid it would snap.

Leliana’s eyes pierced her own, but Mara did not recoil. “What changed?” Leliana’s voice was like venom, untrusting of the woman in front of her.

“The Fen’Harel the world has come to fear… has vanished.” Mara answered, drawing an envelope from her pocket to set on the table. It was sealed with the wax stamp of a wolf.  
  


“You are being foolish if you are allowing the Dread Wolf to sway you.” A snarl rose from Cassandra, slamming her fists down into the table.

“For over a year and a half, we have maneuvered our efforts and resources to prepare for a world in which the veil dropped. We have worked tirelessly to chase leads and anticipate his next steps, and in doing so our expanse of followers and resources have flourished.

And now… the Dread Wolf has offered all in his name to the Inquisition to drop the veil peacefully.” Mara remained stoic in this final declaration.

“Was this all a ruse then, _Inquisitor_? Doing his bidding under the name of justice. Falsely leading thousands…” Cassandra’s eyes went black.

“No, He has evaded all of our efforts to contact and pursue him. Even mine. All of our decisions of the Inner Circle—everyone in this room-- have been made together in light of information we have gathered. We prepared to stop the Dread Wolf if he were to destroy the world.

And now…Solas has returned.”

“I will not stand for this blasphemy.” Cassandra’s hand moved to the handle of her sword.

“What do you mean by the Dread Wolf offering all in his name to us?” Leliana’s teeth were gritted and her knuckles tightened on the lip of the table. She at least wanted more information to mull over before reacting.

Mara handed the sealed envelope forward. “A vow to offer us aid--for a peaceful transition of the veil, against invading enemies, against corrupted demons.”

“I can’t believe this.” Cassandra muttered, tightening her hold of the handle of her sword.

“Hear her out.” This was the first time Cullen had spoken since seated at the table. His voice was sharp and commanding of his title. He raised his head, looking to Mara, then to Cassandra and Leliana.

“Her hear out?! She’s making deals with Fen’Harel behind our back!” Cassandra stood, stiff and sharp.

Cullen stood, angling between Cassandra and Mara. Mara flinched again at his sudden movement—the memory of his impulse resounding. “The Inquisitor asked us to heed her words. She’s given her life to the Inquisition and has led us through and out of the worst circumstances. We owe her that much.”

Mara looked up to Cullen with mixed feelings of sorrow and surprise. He came to her defense—or at least defended her capacity to speak. She suddenly felt small as he met her gaze for the first time. He carried burden in his eyes.

“What happened between you two?” Scoffing, Leliana could not avoid the other strand of tension in the room. “Did you finally have it out?”

Mara hadn’t planned on sharing with anyone their fallout. Dwelling on it forced her to relive it. Cullen searched her face, seeing her guard had fallen. He sat down, slowly returning to his chair.

“The Inquisitor came to me a few nights ago to tell me. Only I wouldn’t hear her. I was blinded in my rage…and I… I tried to kill her.” Cullen’s eyes looked down at the table for a moment, before turning his gaze to Leliana and Cassandra. “I struck her, and she showed me that we are friends. That her intentions are genuine.

And she almost died for my lapse of trust.”

Mara closed her eyes and swallowed, her throat tightening as her eyes welled. “I need a minute.” She stood and made her way swiftly through the doorway, through the living room, and out the front door. The rain continued, bordering on a downpour. The temperature had dropped considerably since the meeting began. She took several deep breaths to try and calm her nerves of the terribly bad conversation and the morose memory.

“You tried to kill her?... _That_ explains why you no longer carry your sword.” Cassandra huffed.

“How did she show you that you could trust her?” Leliana was skeptical but curious.

“As she fell… she gripped my arm. Somehow through her touch, she transferred her memories to me. Memories of the Inquisition. Memories of our friendship. I shouldn’t have faltered. And neither should you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should go after her.” Cullen stood and followed Mara outside.

Leliana and Cassandra eyed each other, then both moved their gaze to the envelope at the table. Leliana reached forward, trapping it in her fingers.

~

The stone house had a small porch with an arched roof, just enough to keep two people out of the rain. Cullen joined her, standing directly in front of her.

“This isn’t going so well,” She started, her gaze at the expanse of the land.

“It wasn’t going to be easy, but they’ll come around.” Cullen shifted his weight, watching her as she looked at anything but him. “Mara?” He asked, needing to say the next piece. After a pause she turned her head to look up at him. He was disheveled and hadn’t shaved in several days. His eyes looked very tired and there were wrinkles she had never noticed.

“Mara… I am so, _so_ sorry. I can’t believe I…” Cullen looked down at his own trembling hands. “I never should have doubted you. I was stunned and… I thought I had lost you.”

The moisture in her eyes spilled onto her cheek. The scar on her chest burned, making her feel like she couldn’t breathe.

“I can’t live with myself. Knowing that I could do that to someone I love.” He stopped himself, revealing a truth that had been evident for some time.

Before he could say any more, she pulled him into a hug and buried her head in his chest. She tightened a grip on him, slipping her arms around his waist. She had let him see her memories—there could be no pretense or doubt that she cared for him considerably.

“I forgive you Cullen.” Her voice was quiet but warm, her face still buried against his chest.  
Cullen pulled back some to look at her fully. If possible, her heart was too forgiving. She had forgiven Blackwall, or rather Thom Rainier, when he posed as the Grey Warden. When brought to her throne for decision, she freed him, and he vowed to serve the Inquisition. She had forgiven Solas, a man who withheld the darkest of secrets and had left her.

And now she was willing to forgive him—someone who in a moment of weakness was capable of murdering her. Cullen shook his head, loosening his hold on her. “Mara… you asked me to pick up my sword again for you and serve. It was so easy to come to you again even when I had started to move on and help the Templars. I swore to protect the Inquisition… and you. But when it counted I couldn’t save you from myself. I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

“What?!” Mara lifted her head and felt her chest tear and burn all over again. Cullen took a step back and away from her, releasing himself from her. “You’re just going to leave? We need you… _I_ need you… We have a whole world to save.” She stepped forward to him as the rain met the both of them in pours. She reached her hand and grabbed him above the wrist. “ _You_ are my Commander. I need you to lead our armies.”

At her touch she unwittingly transferred her emotions to him, her despair and heavy heart coursed through him. He paused, looking down at her hand on his wrist and then to her face. His breath was slow and fogged the cold air around him. The cold rain washed over the both of them, numbing the heat on their slow and measured breaths.

Cullen’s voice finally found him, unmoving. “Is that an order?” His voice was low and hot.

Mara took a few breaths before speaking, feeling an obscure tug toward him. “Yes, Commander.” Her voice was unwavering and definitive.

And suddenly he gave her _the_ look, the same look he had given her when he bestowed and placed his Templar pendant around her neck. She felt the magnetism and his _longing_.

She was scared again for very different reasons. Her care for him was conflicted in fatal fear and the gratitude for giving her purpose again after chasing through the Eluvians. There weren’t words to adequately capture the opposing discord within her. And a flutter fatal in its own merits.

He stepped forward unabashed, her hand still on his wrist. With a gap no more, all that stood between was the materialization of their breaths in the cold wet rain.

He lowered his head, rain falling off his golden locks. The Dread Wolf may have his head for this, but he had already spared him once before.

Mara closed her eyes and pulled in a breath. “We should return.” She kept her eyes closed until she felt his presence pull away, immediately turning to enter the stone house and back to the dining room, fully aware and not concerned that she was soaked from the rain.

“Forgive me for the delay. I am ready to reconvene for the purpose for our gathering.” Mara stood by her chair at the fireplace. Cullen stepped into the room moments after, his face flushed red and his mind elsewhere rethinking how he almost had her.

Leliana cleared her throat, the letter open within her hands. “We opened the envelope you produced. From Solas. There’s magic to the letter, binding his words to form a vow upon our agreement.“ Leliana proceeded to read an excerpt.

_“…To offer all who follow in my name to your bidding to drop the veil peacefully--as peacekeepers, warriors, navigators, scholars—to the extent the Inquisitor requests per her discretion._

_This offer is contingent upon the signatures of the Inner Circle of the Inquisition._

_May no harm befall the Inquisition._

_In your service,_

_Solas”_

Hearing his words played on Leliana’s tongue, although odd, only solidified Solas’ offer—and the presence of him very much a part of her life. The words hung in the air, particularly for Cullen.

“He is serious, Inquisitor,” while intended to be a question, the statement was declarative escaping Cassandra’s lips.

“We had vowed to save our friend from himself…He has been recovered.” Mara the delegate was professing.

“What changed?” Leliana asked again, less skepticism this time after seeing the magical vow.

“He found me, already changed.” Mara did not wish to profess the intimacies of his finding her. Mara watched Leliana’s face already read and decode the nuances of her words and body language. “This offer is a decision required by all of us. The day Solas made the offer is the day I messengered for us to meet. We decide this together, and I understand the review may take time.”

Cullen finally spoke, standing in the doorway of the dining room. “And you trust him? You trust that he will honor his word and this isn’t some gambit to acquire the Inquisition?” Of course Cullen had been there. Of the Inquisition, only he and Charter had seen Solas in the past year. Cullen saw him care for Mara after Cullen attacked her. He was patient, sensitive to her needs, and heeded her request to not avenge. But surely business and pleasure were two separate entities.

Mara’s voice raised in decibel and in confidence. She turned her head to Cullen and answered, “I trust Solas.” She waited before turning her head to Cassandra and Leliana.

This answer angered Cullen, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. She trusted those who foolishly hurt her, even though he was among the men. He kept the anger only to his eyes. 

“I understand time is needed to consider this offer and it will not be decided tonight. We have the house for the next few days, dependent on your schedules.”  
  


“I regret to inform you Inquisitor that I must be going this evening. There is another matter of urgency I must attend to. But I will write to you my decision in the coming days.” Leliana was surprisingly civil.

“I will have to leave in the morning Inquisitor, but thank you for bringing us together to discuss this matter.” Cassandra paused. “It has been some time since we were all together.”

“It has,” Mara agreed. The light in the house had greatly dimmed and it dawned on Mara that it was close to 9 in the evening. “Leliana, let’s get you some food before you go. Cassandra and Cullen, there are open suites on the second floor. There should be fresh linens in each room.”

Cassandra and Leliana both stood. “Thank you Inquisitor. I will see you in the morning.” Cassandra remarked, heading out of the room and up the staircase. Mara left next and walked over to the kitchen, Leliana followed shortly behind. After the steps of Cullen’s footprints echoed up the staircase, Leliana let out a breath to size up the situation. Mara grabbed some fruit and handed it to Leliana.

“This seems sudden.” Leliana began, accepting the offered fruit.

“I was stunned with the offer.” Mara answered, watching Leliana fill her water pack. Leliana turned off the water then searched Mara’s face.

Leliana knew the Inquisitor and Solas were quite close in the years at Skyhold, and had personally helped scout for any sightings of the Dread Wolf. She had watched Mara mourn silently, and now her eyes no longer carried such sadness. “You are together,” Leliana surmised, turning to the Inquisitor.

Mara’s heart pounded at the assertion. She hadn’t yet stated their relationship aloud to anyone, even if they had been together in some form for months. “Yes.”

“And you trust his intentions?”

“I do.” Her face was calm and relaxed, and then a smile pursed her lips tinting her cheeks a rosy hue.

“So Solas returns…” Leliana let out a sigh. “I’ll sign Inquisitor, but I would be… weary with Cullen. He’s looking more weathered than usual.”

“Thank you Leliana.” Leliana was right and Mara knew it. She needed her Commander ready for their greatest feat yet. It was confusing to be around each other, but the needs of the world were greater. The uneasiness should subside with time. And the lingering.

Leliana walked back to the dining room, procuring a writing utensil. She signed her name at the bottom of the letter, and with each stroke the new writing glistened and hummed in binding magic. She turned upon completing her signature, pulling up her hood. “Take care Inquisitor.” She walked out of the dining room, through the living room, and out into the darkness.

Upon Leliana’s leave, Mara looked over the letter and the single signature. She held it in her fingers and felt the hum of magic. Leliana’s signature gleamed with golden magic in the curves of the letters. She read his offer, stroking her thumb over the portion _In your service, Solas_. He had done it. The beautifully bold, grim, and mistaken soul had cast aside his pride and given her the keys to his kingdom. It was extraordinary.

Her shoulders began to shiver as the cold set in, realizing she was still in clothes soaked from the rain. She folded the letter in thirds and headed to the stairway. The house was older but very well maintained. The steps were carpeted and Mara kept her left hand on the ornate stone railing as she climbed. As she approached the landing for the second floor, she saw a flutter of movement in the shadows. Cullen appeared out of the room he had taken. He had changed into warm night clothes and had a look about him.  
  


“Inquisitor.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. He had gone back to the title, separating himself from the affection she had not returned.

“Yes, Commander?” The sting in her chest was a little less now.

He paused and searched her eyes. “…Goodnight Inquisitor.”

Mara gave a nod. “Goodnight Commander,” she whispered back, carrying up to the 3rd floor to her chambers, her left hand faintly gleaming gold along the railing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	17. Announced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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_Mara found herself sitting by the fireplace in a previous residence of the Inquisition. It was late into the evening, the fire crackling and displaying most of the dim light in the den. She was seated in a leather armchair and her mind was hazy. She distinctly felt tired and worn. Soft sounds echoed in the foreground and she was joined by a silhouette. The echoes continued until she discovered it was her name being called._

_She turned her head to the silhouette, and Cullen came to view in the golden haze._

_“Mara.” He said her name once again, before moving swiftly to thrust his sword into her chest. Blood pooled in her mouth as her hand felt the wound, her finger turning sticky as she bled out. She caught his gaze—_ _a look of triumph—before she woke to her bed._

Mara let out a muffled scream, waking in the bed of the three-story stone house. She furiously threw back the covers, feeling for a wound in her chest, but the scar was sealed with no pooled blood.  
  


“Mara,” Solas immediately awoke to her movement. “I think you were dreaming.” His eyes adjusted and he noticed she was clutching her chest. “You’re reliving it,” he surmised but with worry in his voice.

Mara threw her head back onto the pillow, letting out a heavy breath. “Yes.” Her heart was pounding and she was widely alert as if it were real.

He wrapped his left arm around her, pulling her close to him. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little, and it burns occasionally. It sears as if I were just struck.” She didn’t know if the pain made any sense.

Solas hovered his right hand over her chest, concentrating magic over heart. A wave of calm blanketed over her, her lips exiting a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“I have you,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder, leaning into the crook of her neck.

She smiled back at him and eventually drifted back to sleep, his sleeping breath resonating across her skin.

~

Mara woke at daybreak, stirring as the handsome elf continued dozing next to her. He was a sight—shirtless, on his stomach, his well-toned arm wrapped around her, the comforter tucked on his lower back brandishing his back dimples. He was a god and had chosen _her_ to be one of his own. God-status was up for his debate, but in private she worshipped his mind, his spirit, and his body. She counted herself lucky to spend any remaining time with him—no matter the results of the Veil.

And now the Inner Circle was aware of his offer, and their decline or acceptance could drastically change the Inquisition’s path and all of Thedas.

 _Let’s get through breakfast first_.

Mara gently moved out of Solas hold, sliding to the edge of the bed. She got up, changing from her pajamas to day clothes. She ran a brush through hair, then wove her hair into a braid. As she was about to head downstairs, Solas turned in her bed, searching for her sleepily with his hands.

“Good morning,” She sat at the edge of the bed, holding a hand to his sleepy face. “I’m heading downstairs to prepare breakfast. I will let you know when it’s safe to join us.” She leaned forward and planted her lips over his. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered, before sitting up to head out the door.

His eyes opened as a smile spread on his lips. “How are you feeling, Vhenan?”

“I feel good.” This wasn’t a lie, even with nightmare. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

While Mara was the first downstairs, she was joined shortly later by Cassandra, who had always been an early riser. Cassandra joined her in the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee Mara had just brewed.

“Good morning Cassandra.”

“Morning Inquisitor.” Cassandra’s voice was a little gruff.

“How did you sleep?”

Cassandra gulped down much of her coffee. “Fine, thanks.”

“This is my first time staying here at this house… Kind of reminds me of a bed and breakfast.” It had its charm as a three story, stone townhome. Mara poured her own coffee with creamer, resting against the counter.

Cullen strolled through the kitchen, overhearing their banter. “A little bed and breakfast? Don’t give Cassandra ideas for when she retires.”

Mara smiled and let out a chuckle. For how tough Cassandra is, she was also quite the romantic. “I think it sounds nice.” Mara defended.

There was a notable, but playful scowl from Cassandra to Cullen.

“Good morn-

“Morning Inquisitor”. Cullen and Mara stumbled their greetings at the same. Mara smiled, offering Cullen a mug to fill.

“Breakfast is almost done. The muffins still have a few minutes.” At Mara’s mention, a waft of cinnamon and brown sugar wafted through the kitchen. Cullen poured his coffee and brought it to his mouth, relaxing at the warmth.

Mara waited until Cullen was done with his coffee before continuing. “We have a guest joining us.”

~

Solas entered the dining room, joining Mara at the long side of the dining room table near the fireplace. Cullen and Cassandra sat opposite. Solas began moments after the food was served, allowing the niceties of the breakfast to encourage a more forgiving mood.

“I woke to a world in which my plight to save my people cost them their livelihood. I fought with the Evanuris and sealed them away so that my people could be freed. You may have read I was coined as the god of rebellion. The only truth is that I rebelled against the Pantheon as a liberator.

I woke to a world in which Elves were still enslaved or at best marginalized. Their history, morés, and connection to the Fade severed. While in hopes to save my people, I took away what it meant to be Elvhen.

I thought there was only one way to carry on with what I am bound to do. Cole helped me recognize some truths I had been afraid to see. The world did not have to hurt so much. People I had come to admire and respect did not have to hurt so much. Only my pride obstructed my chance to see things another way.

Cole showed me that, while I was hurting, the Inquisition was scouring Thedas, turning every stone, to combat my plans with peace.

I did not have to do this alone. And I did not have to cling to my destructive path.

There is no one I trust more to do good when wielding such great power. Her heart and motives are incorruptible. And her friends unyielding in their commitment.”

Solas looked to Mara with deep admiration, his draw almost palpable to the rest of the room.

“I trust you fully, Inquisitor.”

For a brief moment, the rest of the room faded away. Entranced by his confession and his offer, Mara’s heart raced and swelled. She had only guessed that Cole visited Solas after he came to Mara in her final outpour of grief. The grief that had made her collapse as she learned Solas had disguised himself and attended their meeting with other ambassadors from Thedas, Charter attending as an ambassador to the Inquisition. Solas’ assumption was that she would be in attendance. But when disappointment found him, he still spared her spy.

Cole had shown Solas her grief. Realizing her grief made him face his own. And upon facing, he returned to her fallen and humbled.

Cassandra felt like she was watching one of Varric’s scenes play out in real time. Star-crossed lovers whose pride had bested them, finally uniting after many years torn apart. The warrior in her was irked to see such a display, especially among those she knew, but the romantic in her rooted for their irrevocable affair.

Cassandra cleared her throat from the thick swath of feelings in the air. “If we agree, what comes next?”

Solas turned his eyes to Cassandra and Cullen. “If you accept my offer, I will then invite the Inquisitor to my fortress to survey the extent of my resources. She can then determine how to utilize my forces.”

“Alone?” Cullen scoffed.

Solas paused briefly before continuing. “I imagine she will be accompanied by those of the Inner Circle.”

“I will go… If we agree.” Cassandra volunteered.

Mara thought this was more reasonable than allowing a highly-wound Commander to scout the fortress of the Dread Wolf. “I would like that, Cassandra. We can provide a full report to the rest of the Inner Circle and make decisions from there.”

“If you offer your services to us, how will we advise your resources and forces?” Cassandra asked, wanting to lay out the details before signing.

“I imagine having frequent contact with the Inquisitor and her Inner Circle. I plan to grant her unrestricted access to my fortress if we need to coordinate decisions on site. Mara and I are also able to meet in the Fade if we cannot get away.

And upon her agreement, access to meet the Inquisition wherever you are stationed.”

“What if we need to make contact with you immediately and the Inquisitor is not around?” Cullen asked, tapping his fingers on the lip of the table.

Solas took in a breath before continuing. “There are ways to reach me and my forces through magic. For example, each of the Inner Circle could be given enchanted parchment, that upon their writing, their message is imparted to me. I can communicate back to you this way until we can meet.”

“And no harm will come to us from your expanse of forces and followers?” Cullen asked, trying to find any loophole Solas could have written in his offer.

“My followers and forces are commanded to do no harm to the Inquisition, as long as the Inquisition forces are true to the Inquisitor’s mission. If my followers come upon spies within the Inquisition, we will alert you immediately and await your decision for action.

If my own followers break the order, I will banish infiltrators and betrayers, taking appropriate action.

My forces and followers will be ordered to follow the Inquisitor’s commands—as she is my equal.”

 _  
My equal_. These two words echoed for all in the room.

“What does that mean exactly?” Cassandra’s question echoed Cullen’s.

Mara looked to Solas and let out a slow breath. She had confirmed Leliana’s suspicion that they were together. Cullen probably guessed as much. And now Cassandra needed to know. But to what extent?

“We have chosen one another,” She answered, looking to Solas and then to her companions. At least, that’s how their relationship-conversation proceeded. After her statement, she realized it probably sounded odd to those who weren’t there in their intimate moment.

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. Again, it sounded like a complicated descriptor from Varric’s novels.

“She has accepted my hand.” Solas looked to her wistfully, the first smile donned by him in front of the companions. Cassandra and Cullen looked to Mara and then to her left hand, the same gleaming gold Cullen had seen trail the railing of the staircase the night before.

There was a pause as Cassandra and Cullen tried to comprehend the complexity. Cassandra finally cleared her throat. “Does Leliana know? And she still signed?”

Mara nodded, taking the lead. “I spoke with Leliana before she left. She knows Solas and I are…together.”

Cassandra watched Mara and Solas, trying to decipher any nuances to their body language or words. It appeared remarkably…genuine. While the Dread Wolf had been feared by many and capable of calamity, the Solas before her almost blazed in affection and loyalty.

“I do have to be going,” Cassandra began. “But I will sign. I look forward to seeing this fortress in person.” She pulled the letter to her and began signing her name. Her signature gleamed in magic as she wrote each letter.

“Thank you, Cassandra. I will send an invitation upon the last signature.” Solas stood as Cassandra gathered her things then stood. “Allow me to walk you out,” He offered, following Cassandra through the door of the dining room and to the living room.

As Solas left, Cullen looked at the letter and then to Mara. He wanted to dwell in every reason against an alliance with Solas’ forces. He was the last who needed to be swayed. If he signed, Mara and every hope of her would be one grand step further from him. How long could he stand his ground?

“Would you like for me to refill your coffee? I can brew some more.” She sensed his hesitation and recognized he would need time.

“I.. erm, no.” Cullen stammered, anticipating her to ask about his agreement to Solas’ offer. “I should also be going. I need to gather my things and then I will be off.”

Mara nodded, expecting as much. “I will pack some food for your journey back.”

Cullen stood, bumping into the table making the mugs shake and the silverware clatter against the porcelain plates. “Uh-that’s not necessary. Thank you though.” He exited the dining room, making his way up the staircase to pack his belongings from his suite.

From the front door Solas said his farewell to Cassandra. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Cassandra. I look forward to meeting with you again soon.”

Cassandra paused before responding. “It is nice to have you back, Solas.” While she had some reservations, she hoped that he had returned for good.

“Safe travels,” Solas bowed his head slightly as Cassandra left the stone house. He turned around, finding Mara clearing the dining room table. He raised his eyebrow, noticing Cullen was no longer in the room.

“Cullen will be leaving soon, too,” Mara responded. She didn’t even have to tell him Cullen hadn’t agreed just yet.

Solas nodded silently, helping her clear the table and put away the food. 

Within a few minutes, Cullen’s footsteps were heard climbing down the stairs. Upon view of the first floor landing, Mara could see Cullen was already wearing his packs and great sword. He walked forward, picking up the letter in his hands and folding it into thirds.

“Can I speak with you outside before I leave, Inquisitor?” He asked, only eyeing Mara as she put away food.

“Of course,” she followed him outside to the porch, the door closing before he spoke. He opened his mouth but there was a long pause before speaking, apparently searching for the right words. It had only been a day since the two stood at the same spot, lingering as he summoned courage should he take the plunge.

“I’ll have an answer after my return to the fort.” He looked away to the trees dotting the landscape.

“Of course, Commander. Take your time.” Her words were kind and understanding. She had predicted his decision would be made last. After their history, it was no surprise. She waited to see if there was more he needed to say.

After another long pause, he finally turned his head to her gaze. The compassion she demonstrated threw his emotions in turmoil. He wanted to hate her, but he was a moth to her blazen flame.

“I’ll see you soon.” Mara responded in his absence. “Safe travels.”

Cullen curtly nodded, then turned and headed east to the fort.

After Cullen was some distance away, she turned and headed back inside. Solas had finished clearing the dining room and the food. He had patiently awaited her return.

“He’ll have an answer upon his return to the fort. He took your letter with him.”

Solas nodded, walking forward to her, wrapping his arms around her to form a hug. “All things considered, I think that was a success.”

Mara thought about various ways it could have gone—and at least there wasn’t bloodshed this time. “It was definitely more heated last night, but I was a little surprised Leliana agreed so quickly.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have been, though. Leliana was a friend to the mages and advocated for the freedom of elves.

Solas remained quiet, tightening his hold on her, leaning his head down to kiss the top of her head. “Now they know.”

“And now they know.” Mara repeated, slow and drawn out, looking up at Solas. Now those she was closest to knew that Solas was a part of her life again, and likely soon, a part of their lives as well.

They were witness to his vulnerability, a side only shown to Mara until now.

And he had announced their engagement—something she hadn’t even planned to share with them just yet.

He was bold. And he was ready.

~

The following evening, Mara returned to the current fort. Solas walked her to the perimeter of the land before bidding her farewell to return to his own fortress.

She was greeted upon her arrival, many of her agents sitting down for dinner in the great hall.

“Good evening Inquisitor, welcome back.”

Mara turned her head to the greeting. “Lieutenant Harding. I can say the same about yourself. We’ve missed your presence.”

Lieutenant Harding had been on leave after her parents unexpectedly passed. Mara had sent agents to investigate, but the results were only looking grim.

“Thank you, Inquisitor. I returned two days ago. It appears some of the staff have changed. Sister Laudine unexpectedly resigned and left her post the day you left.”

Mara furrowed her brows, then returned her face to a neutral expression. “Thank you Lieutenant Harding. I will look into it.

… Do you know if Commander Cullen has returned yet?”

“No ma’am.”

Mara nodded, clearing her throat. “It is good to have you back. You have been sorely missed. Good evening.” Mara walked away, journeying to her bedchambers and away from sight and sound.

As she approached the corridor, she sensed she was not alone. Cautiously, she inspected her door before proceeding, turning the door knob silently. One oil lamp was lit by the seating area, Leliana standing to the side of the arrangement. She was just who Mara wanted to speak with.

“Are the rumors confirmed?” Mara asked after closing the door, spelling the room with silencing enchantments.

“I am afraid so.” Leliana spoke, the faint flicker of the lamp highlighting the sinister side of her. “As Senor De Riva warned, leaked pieces of knowledge were sold to the Qunari. One such consequence was the death of Lieutenant Harding’s family. Many more could be at stake.”

Mara nodded gravely. _Much more could be at stake_.

Leliana continued. “I have many of our spies scouring for the location and the buyers. We may need to contact our allies for a swift resolve.”

“I will write and send a messenger to Senor De Riva tonight,” Mara prioritized, quickly pulling out parchment and a writing utensil. She began to pen the urgent request.

Leliana opened her mouth, pausing before speaking. She was not yet sure if all of the Inner Circle signatures were obtained. Leliana chose her words carefully. “Shall this request be shared with those in good favor?”

Mara looked up to Leliana from the letter, returning a silent yes with her eyes.

Leliana gave the smallest nod in acknowledgement. “We will need to move quickly. While we falsified tomes for translation in the last of her stay, there may be much more she could be willing to sell.”

“I will collect her personally if I am so fortunate.” Mara was not afraid to hunt and eliminate those who turned and sought to destroy their purpose. After all, it was she who had executed Iron Bull after re-committing to the Ben-Hassrath, attempting to slay her party.

“You and me both, Inquisitor.” While Leliana had hardened in most ways, she remained loyal and unwavering to the Inquisition. Mara could not be more thankful. “Does Cullen know?”

“Unless her plans were shared intimately, he is none the wiser.” Mara cleared her throat. “I will not report to him until we are once again in control.”

Leliana nodded sternly. “I will messenger the letter now if you are ready. I know you are just returning.”

“Thank you, Leliana.” Mara signed her name, folded and placed the letter in an envelope, then stamped the flap with hot wax. “Please let me know as soon as you hear. I will do the same with you.”

“Will do Inquisitor. Perhaps we can make a date of it once she is located.” Leliana took the envelope handed to her, turning to leave.

“Happy to. Good evening Leliana.” Mara watched as Leliana walked through the door with possibly the smallest smile in the world, anticipating the reunion and elimination of a fallen sister.


	18. Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallen and the fallout.
> 
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Before the door had closed upon Leliana’s departure, Mara crawled to the center of her bed, sitting in a kneeled position. She breathed in deeply and slowly, relaxing her body and her mind with slow, elongated breaths. Within a minute, her consciousness teetered on the boundary between the living and the Fade. With one step forward and her arm outstretched, she stepped into the Fade.

Filtered green, she became more relaxed and comfortable navigating a small portion of the realm. Solas had designated a meeting spot for them, away from corrupted spirits and traffic. He chose a quaint stone bench under an encompassing shaded tree, outlooking a calm lake in the valley between mountains that reminded her of Skyhold.

She approached the bench, her feet feeling light as she strolled in the Fade. Her skin buzzed with the excess of magic, feeling as though she was swathed in a warm blanket of Magic’s essence.

Before she sat down, she closed her eyes and whispered to Solas.

“I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.” Her ring vibrated as she made her request, taking a seat to wait. It could have been a few seconds or days-as time felt different here-but her good sense told her it had only been minutes until Solas coolly strolled by, taking a seat next to her. He knew better than to tease that they had just parted one another.

“Our suspicions were correct. There was a double agent—and she is at least responsible for the death of Lieutenant Harding’s parents. She suddenly left her post the day we left for the stone house.

Out of caution and suspicion, we falsified the records and tomes she was translating the past two months. She sold the false secrets and we are tracking where they lead.”

Mara turned to look Solas directly in his quiet and serious display.  
“I need to ask for your help to locate and capture Sister Laudine. And ideally, allow me to speak with her before she is eliminated.”

Signed letter or not, Solas had already decided to offer her aid. He gravely nodded. “Of course. I will dispatch agents immediately.”

“Thank you. As of now, very few know. Leliana deployed some of our agents this evening and I have called in a favor with the Talons.” Mara drew in a breath before continuing. “Cullen hasn’t returned to the fort yet, and I may wait to tell him I’ll be the one taking his girlfriend’s life.”

Solas produced one more curt nod.

“Also… can I visit the library within the Crossroads? I need to do some research.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly out of curiosity of what she wanted to find. “You need not ask, Vhenan.” He raised his arm, brushing her hair with his fingertips before a final tuck behind her ear. “I must be going, but we will begin the search for her tonight.”

Solas stood, then offered his hands to help Mara up—the same way he always approached her at her level. As equals.

“Thank you Solas.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead, his embodiment disintegrating seconds after the imparted kiss. Mara closed her eyes, drawing herself from the Fade, opening her eyes to her bedchambers at the fort.

In one swift movement, she slipped out of her bed, slung on her pack, and disappeared from her chamber, exiting the fort through the old servant’s corridors.

If she remembered correctly, the closest Eluvian was about 2 miles away from the fort. She left the grounds without drawing attention herself, slinking through the night.

She arrived at the Eluvian in under and hour, watching her surroundings before stepping forward. The Eluvian was in the basement of an abandoned home, perceptively hidden in a dense forest an unknown without the use of magic. The house was enchanted with wards, keeping people and animals away from the entry. 

Once stepping through the Eluvian, Mara followed the path to the library, climbing ancient staircase leading to larger than life bookcases. She needed to learn more about legilimency. As Solas had begun teaching her magic lost to the Elvhen empire, he had encouraged her to practice skills involving the perception and imparting of emotions and memories between the caster and their subject. Solas explained that as she was especially empathic towards those around her, she might be more apt to learn the lost art. While she only had one lesson, she was able to briefly share her feelings through touch with Solas. His stoic face had flushed pink when she shared her amorous feelings through a soft caress to his chiseled frame.  
  


After the initial lesson, she had since imparted thoughts to Cullen twice. Once when he struck her with his sword, the next on the porch of the stone house as he considered leaving the Inquisition. She had progressed from imparting feelings to memories. 

And now… she needed to learn about receiving the thoughts and feelings of others. Or _mind reading_ as it were referred to by the current era. If Sister Laudine were to be captured, Mara needed to know the extent of her post as a double agent. What had she learned? What had she shared? What were the next plans of her contractor?

Mara always had an uneasy feeling with Sister Laudine, and she had hoped to chalk it up to her abrasive personality and refusal of etiquette. She had hoped she wasn’t right, and hoped that the falsifying of tomes was just what it was—an elaborate caution.

Mara drew in a long breath as she reached the top of the stairs, entering the library. She began to pass bookcases, reading the gold labels before continuing her search. 

She didn’t think Cullen was aware of his girlfriend’s treason. While Cullen was removed and brooding during their time at the stone house, it could have easily been due to the timing and nature of the visit. She trusted Cullen enough to be transparent for the sake of the Inquisition. 

It was Cullen who moved against Mara when he suspected her of treason. Surely he would also have acted if he knew of his girlfriend’s ploy.

She arrived at the shelf she believed provided the literature she sought. It at least was the same bookcase Solas had shown her for their lone lesson on legilimency. Mara pulled a few options from the shelf, bringing them over to a softened-leather arm chair and settled in for her review.

The next time she looked up, the sunrise lit the library in an orange haze. She had managed to sit in place for about 8 hours, absorbing what is known—or at least documented—by the ancient magic. She needed to head back to the fort to await news from Leliana or the Talons. She packed the two most promising books into her bag, then headed down the staircase and through the Eluvian.

Within an hour, she was back at the fort, her body tired but her mind excited from her studies. Once at her bedchamber, she curled into the large bed, closing her eyes for at least a few hours of sleep.

~

Mara woke abruptly in the early afternoon, sitting up and coughing to clear her lungs from the pooled blood of her dream. Bringing her hand to her mouth, no blood was evident. It was just a dream, again, but her scar seared hot again as if she were just struck by Cullen’s sword.

This was the second time. Panting, she focused to try to return to normal breathing but she was uniquely alarmed. _How long would this continue?_

When her pulse returned to a normal rate, she felt her hunger and realized it had been about 24 hours since she had eaten. With the first thought of reality, the rest of the recent events flooded her mind. She needed to find Leliana to check for an update and determine if Cullen was back yet.

She left her bed, removing and leaving her clothes on the floor, before taking a quick but hot shower to wash away the weight of yesterday. While Cullen was the last to decide on agreeing to Solas’ proposal of aid and shared resources, finding his traitorous girlfriend was perhaps more urgent. How much more emotional hardship did he have to endure?

She turned the spigot and the shower water came to a halt. She stepped out, dried, and pulled on clean clothes. She wound her hair into a braid as she walked out of her bedchambers and down the two flights of stairs.   
  


Scanning the great hall, she found it only partially occupied with a handful of agents, eating and casually conversing. She took a seat at a long table and wasn’t alone long before one of the chefs brought her a plate with roasted meat and vegetables. She dug in, savoring the food, and it was only moments before she was joined.

“Good afternoon Inquisitor,” Charter began. She was one of Leliana’s senior agents and was the soul Solas spared in the ambassador meeting months ago. She too was an elf, and often wore her red hair up and away from her face.

“Good afternoon Charter,” Mara replied after swallowing her food, looking up to her as she continued.  
  
“Leliana requests to meet as soon as is convenient. She is in her bedchamber.”

“Thank you, Charter. I will be there shortly.”

Charter bowed her head, then turned to resume her post. Mara quickly finished the rest of her lunch, then climbed the stairs to Leliana’s room on the 2nd floor.

Before Mara could knock, Leliana opened the door swiftly and stood aside. “Come in Inquisitor.”

Mara closed the door behind her, procuring silencing enchantments. This was her first time in Leliana’s room and noted the difference in décor and the numerous bird cages.  
  


“Have we heard back yet?” Mara began, standing.

“We have. The Talons are tracking Sister Laudine’s movement. They will write again once her capture is confirmed, presumably this evening.” It wasn’t clear if Leliana had already packed, or hadn’t bothered from the last trip. “Cullen hasn’t returned yet, either.”

Mara considered the undertones. It was unlikely Cullen would have pursued Sister Laudine without informing the Inner Circle, but it was poor timing for his delayed return. She wanted to believe him.

“I will prepare and pack for our leave tonight.” Mara watched as a thought passed over Leliana’s face, but ultimately she remained silent. “We’ll find her. And we’ll find out what she knows.”

Leliana nodded. “I’ll come to your room as soon as I hear. We’ll leave immediately after.”

Mara began backing away to the door. “See you soon.” She turned and left Leliana’s room, heading downstairs and to the kitchen, pulling a pack. She began filling the pack with 3-4 days’ worth of food and filled canteens with distilled water. When done, she swung the pack over her shoulder and climbed the stairs two at a time.   
  


Once at her room, she set the pack by the door and began pulling out necessities from daggers to a bundle of elfroot. Clothes were folded into a pack and she laid out her armor over an ottoman.

There was nothing to do except wait. Retrieving one of the books from the Crossroads library, she settled in to an armchair to continue reading about legilimency. Again she found herself entranced in the old magic. 

A couple of hours passed before she heard a distinct knock on her door. “Come in,” she raised her voice, putting aside the book and beginning to pull on her armor.

Leliana walked in, fully armed with a travel pack. “They found her en route to Antiva City. They are taking her to Senor De Riva’s estate to hold her until our arrival.”

The Inquisition’s current residence was west of Nevarra. They needed to cross several hundreds of miles quick. Mara bit her lip and thought, finally settling on an item in the top drawer of her dresser. Mara retrieved a folded parchment with a map inlay in Ancient Elvhen. “There might be a way to get there faster than by foot.”

Mara unfolded the map into view, navigating the terrain with its ancient Elven language. “I haven’t used this map before, but I was told it lists the locations of active Eluvians. There is one about 2 miles from here. And another…” Mara traced the map with her fingertips to anything close to Antiva. “And another about 20 miles outside of our hold there. We could gather horses at our hold and then from horseback arrive at Senor De Riva’s estate. Where does he live?”

“Salle, on the coast of Rialto Bay, south of Antiva City.” Leliana paused, watching Mara fold the map and place it into her pack. “Do we have access to the Eluvians?”

Mara let out a breath, pulling on her armored gloves. “We have no choice.” Solas’ proposal of resources and forces were not yet solidified, but she would rather ask his forgiveness than reach the traitor too late.

Leliana did not respond, but she understood the gravity. Countless secrets could have been sold to several enemies. And her conspiracy already led to the deaths of Lieutenant Harding’s parents. “Ready Inquisitor?”

“Ready.” With the last of her armor cinched and her staff strapped to her back, Mara led the pair out of the fort and to the first Eluvian in the warded run-down home in the forest.

This was Leliana’s first time using an Eluvian. Her expression was a mixture of reservation and curiosity. Mara stepped through first, followed by Leliana. Leliana’s eyes widened as they stepped into the Crossroads and awed the floating land masses and gargantuan mirrors. She marveled at the impossible magic.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Mara commented, continuing through the pathway to the Eluvian they needed.

Before Leliana responded, she drew her bow in one swift motion. Ahead there was _someone_ in unidentified clothing, with their own bow raised at the two. Mara raised a barrier. The archer squinted, then dropped to their knees, putting away their bow.

Mara waited a few seconds before approaching the archer who was 20 feet ahead. Cautiously, Leliana still had her bow primed as the two approached. The archer was in fact an elf, with their head bowed as they stayed knelt.

 _They must be one of Solas’ agents_. Mara surmised based on their retreat.   
Mara and Leliana continued walking, eventually passing the archer who remained bowed until their sight was a blur. Eventually Leliana loosened the taut arrow, keeping the bow in her arms. They continued forward and then to the left to the Eluvian in question.

“I believe this one will lead us to Antiva.” Mara looked to Leliana who nodded back to her, bow in hand. Mara walked through, dense rain pouring over her. She pulled up her hood and watched as Leliana stepped through to the sudden rain. 

They headed out in silence, alert and aware as they traversed in the rain. Every step took them closer to quenching the knowledge of the conspirator. In a couple of hours, they made it to their hold. It was well maintained with staff on service. The two were greeted as they retrieved their horses, carrying on into the night.

~

Their horses came to a halt, visibility of the mansion poor even in its splendor from the downpour of rain. Thunder crackled and rumbled, drowning out any sounds of Mara’s and Leliana’s horses. The reins loosened from Mara’s grip, and a gloved hand was offered to her own. She accepted the hand, slipping down from the height.

“Lady Inquisitor,” The tall and slender man bowed to kiss the wrist of her armored hand, even in the roaring downpour.

“Senor De Riva,” Mara’s voice carried over the rain. “Thank you for bringing us here. My spymaster is with me.”

Talon Viago De Riva lowered her hand with care, looking over to Leliana who had dropped from her horse.

“Our agents will tend to your horses” Viago’s eyes followed the horses, then to Leliana, then back to Mara. “I will take you to her.”

Viago turned, Mara and Leliana following him to the monstrous mansion with dark undertones. The front doors looked like they belonged to a castle, approximately 20 feet tall of dark grain wood, carved with some design that was hard to discern in the rain. Upon entry of the mansion, Mara couldn’t help but marvel for a quick moment at the marble and grandeur. Fire sconces flamed the open space. The décor was extravagant yet streamlined. It was undoubtedly Viago’s personal residence.

She dropped the hood of her cloak, turning to Leliana and Viago. “Senor De Riva, have you had the opportunity to meet my spymaster?”

A quick look exchanged between Leliana and Viago meant they had, but she could not distinguish their relationship.

“A pleasure as always, Sister Nightingale.” Viago was tightlipped and swiftly changed directions.  
  


“She has used different forms of magic to try to escape or maim. She has been unsuccessful, but she is colored in a… frenzy.” Viago dropped his hood and led the two down the hall then down at least two flights of stairs into what could be described as a polished dungeon. Viago continued until they made it to the middle of the corridor, stopping outside a dense metal door. 

“She is in here. You will have your privacy, but we will be around if you are in need.”

Mara nodded to Viago and thanked him. Leliana watched him walk away out of sight before speaking. “Inquisitor… I must ask that after the interrogation, that I be the one to take her life.”

Mara’s eyebrows furrowed while Leliana continued. “With the…delicate issues surrounding Commander Cullen, I think it wise if we do not intensify the complexity of his role.” Leliana paused, now looking to her rather as a friend. “I’ve seen the way he watches you and he has only grown bolder in time. And his decisive action against you could have killed you.” Leliana was quiet before several seconds before continuing. “I don’t think you should carry this burden, even when you are willing.”

Leliana was rarely this candid with her and Mara took her advice seriously. She searched Leliana’s face, wondering if this action would harden or soften her. 

After a moment Mara nodded. “I’ll tell you when.”

Mara pulled the door, clicks scaling the height of the door unlocked a series of locks. She cast barriers around her and Leliana, stepping forward into a room 10 feet by 10 feet. Sister Laudine was slouched against the wall opposite the door, chained at the ankles, knees, waist, and hands. The chain links were approximately 1 inch thick and Mara sensed other magical enchantments trapping Sister Laudine to the spot. Her head moved from a hung position upward, raising her eyes at her visitors.

“You _bitch_ ,” Sister Laudine’s voice was raspy and not the effective scream she wanted. She attempted to spit in their direction, but she was so dehydrated only air escaped her dried mouth.

Leliana closed the door, then took a stance guarding it. Mara walked forward to the lone chair in the middle of the room at least 4 feet away from the prisoner. She sat down with no visible reaction to Sister Laudine’s spat.

Mara slowed her breathing, inhaling and exhaling deeply through her nose. She relaxed her mind, clearing it as if she were about to step back into the Fade. Instead, she stepped forward into the mind of the traitor.

Mara had only read about this skill as a legilimens. Before she had only tried to share her memories or thoughts with others. This was her first time probing and requesting the thoughts in another’s mind.

Mara no longer heard her own internal dialogue. Instead she saw flashes of Sister Laudine’s thoughts. Mara concentrated, wanting to draw specific information from her mind.

Sister Laudine had closed her eyes when Mara entered, unaware that her own mind had been invaded. To her, it felt like she was about to drift off to sleep.

Mara began probing. _Who recruited you?_

Sister Laudine did not hear the question—from her inner voice or Mara’s. But she responded aloud to the cell when prompted.

“A Qunari woman.”

_Were you recruited before your post with the Inquisition_?

“No. But I had been approached before. More than once.”

_When were you recruited and for what purposes?_

“After I had met you. To destroy you and the order you falsely claim to seek. You’re a nuisance.”

_Why?_

“The more I was around you and the world you puppeteered, it sickened me. _You’re_ a disgrace. An irritation allowed to continue for far too long.”

_Is there more?_

There was a pause before Sister Laudine spoke, her eyes still closed but there was a grimace on her face. She stretched out her hand and attempted to send forth a curse, flames not even leaving her fingertips. Sister Laudine wailed as the grip of the chains magically tightened. Her eyes were still closed.

Mara changed tactics, searching Sister Laudine’s mind instead of probing questions for her to answer. Mara saw Sister Laudine in the library of their fort, poured over tomes, frantically scribbling on parchment. The tomes from the Deep Roads had only produced a few secrets worth selling. When provided falsified tomes to interpret, Sister Laudine was unaware of the switch. 

Mara saw her writing the false secrets, folding and placing the parchment in her pocket. She saw her leaving the fort in the middle of the night, traveling a few days to a dark cavern to meet a contact, massing the parchment to a hooded man who was…Tevinter.

Sister Laudine had sold secrets to the Qunari. And had at least started selling secrets to Tevinter. At least the secrets sold to Tevinter were false.

She was a traitor of all trades. 

She had, though, sold the private information of senior members of the Inquisition, including the whereabouts and descriptions of next of kin. She sold approximately how many posts were held per position and rank.

She did not know about Solas and suddenly Mara witnessed a spat with Cullen.

—

  
Cullen stood in the doorway of his chambers, blood on his hands after he had just confronted Mara and Solas in her room. Sister Laudine badgered him, questioning what had happened but Cullen remained silent. The silence infuriated her and she raised her voice, shouting at the withdrawn and quiet Commander.

“It’s about _her_ again, isn’t it? You can’t tell me _anything_ about her royal fucking highness.” Sister Laudine charged at him, shoving him forcefully. “You protect her like she’s the Divine. She’s _nothing_ and has blinded you and all of Thedas.”

She pushed him again, and he looked down at her in continued silence. He would not return her attacks.

“I can’t do this!” Her shout was a shriek, her body trembling in anger. In one motion she lifted an already-packed bag over her shoulder and left. 

She had sold enough secrets to keep her safe away from the Qunari and Tevinter.

—

Mara started to feel faint, the new magic depleting her resources. She steadied her breath, trying to hold on for a little longer, magic trailing from her gold ring to fuel the last of her magic pool.

In Sister Laudine’s open eyes, Cullen had entered the cell with a worn and weathered expression, but care still shone in his amber eyes. Sister Laudine’s lips trembled as he approached, feeling a small pang of guilt amidst heavy sinister disdain. She shook her head as her eyes became dramatically misty and spoke to him.

“You were real.” She sniffed. “But you’re not the life I wanted. _That_ was not the life I wanted.”

Memories flashed of Sister Laudine and Cullen. Cullen was always steps ahead in his affections, his commitment, and the life he dreamt for the two of them. Even though he wasn’t what she wanted in the long run, she despised not being _all_ that he wanted. Who he wanted most. He cared for her, but it was not enough to save him. Or be with him and the life he dreamt. But the spite of not being singularly wanted flamed a rage within her.

“They’re next.” Sister Laudine whispered to Cullen in the cell, and in her mind was the image of beautiful blonde sisters. There was no shred of conflict in her voice.

Mara pulled herself out of Sister Laudine’s mind, still seated on the chair.  
  
“Now.” She ordered, summoning strength as she was now out of breath.

Three arrows snapped through the air, piercing and running through Sister Laudine’s neck, her heart, and between her eyes.

Mara stood, slowly stepping back to turn to Leliana by the door to the cell. Leliana had been watching the bizarre exchange as Mara sat silently before Sister Laudine, and Sister Laudine answering unspoken requests. 

Now, the color left Sister Laudine and pooled to the floor. Three clean pierces where one would have done. Conspirators are due their justice.

Mara’s hands shook with her voice. “Cullen’s sisters are their next mark. We have to send for their rescue before they’re reached.”

Leliana’s eyes swept over Mara’s body—fatigued and tired from some kind of intense and unfamiliar magic. She did not linger long, opening the door as magic unbolted the locks. 

Leliana and Mara left the cell, fleeing down the corridor, not stopping when questioning the agent at end. “Where is Viago?” Leliana’s voice was stern but her body kept moving.

“He should be in a study on the first floor, across from the landing.”

Mara willed herself to keep up with Leliana but her breathing was threaded. They made it to the landing and she almost stumbled to the study. Upon hearing their movements, Viago stood from his desk then swiftly lunged forward as Mara’s knees buckled, her body threatened to collapse. Viago caught her and helped her to sit on a quilted, soft leather sofa. He inspected her, but there were no wounds. Her skin had lost much of its color and her nose started to bleed.  
  


“She cast a lot of magic,” Leliana had trepidations of revealing the extent to Mara’s powers.

Viago lifted his cane, unscrewing the handle to an assortment of colorful vials within of antivenins and healing agents. 

Judging from Mara’s greyed skin and eyes that had trouble focusing, he estimated she drew enormous amounts of magic uncommon to most mages. Uncapping two separate vials, he lifted the vials to her mouth, tiling her chin up with his other hand.

She parted her lips, two vials of liquid pouring in her mouth. She swallowed, trying to steady her eyes on Leliana, then to Viago.  
“We have to go,” Her voice was a feeble yet determined whisper.

“You can in a moment, but not in your current condition.” Viago stood from his knelt position in front of her, stepping out of the doorway to signal an agent. After a moment he stepped back in, eyeing Leliana and then Mara.  
  


“My agents are bringing your horses from the stables.” Viago paused, watching color very slowly return to her rose hued cheeks. “We’ll take care of the body, too.”

Mara nodded at the gracious ally. If he were anyone else, he could have snapped her in her fragile state. “I am in your debt.” Her voice grew in strength and decibel, and was now above a whisper.

Viago shook his head, stiffening to his full height. “Hardly. Your forces were instrumental in keeping the Qunari out of Antiva City.”

Leliana had been quiet in this exchange, watching someone she had known to be so removed, indifferent, particular, and not easily convinced. And yet there was an air of respect and warm regard from him. She pulled out a piece of parchment, penning an urgent message.

Viago pulled a silk handkerchief from his suit, offering it to Mara for her nose. Mara accepted it, dabbing a small amount of blood, embarrassed as she regained her strength and her wits.  
“Thank you.”

“Teia will be sad to have missed you. She has wanted to meet you for some time.”

_Teia_. Mara’s memory was jarred at the name. Teia was the Talon who helped arrange her first meeting with Viago. She also suspected Teia as his partner. Mara smiled, offering the handkerchief back. “We’ll have to arrange a visit at a less precarious time.” She lifted herself from the soft leathered sofa, tired but not again on the brink of collapse. “Thank you again, Senor De Riva.”

He did not accept the handkerchief out of courtesy and dislike of germs. He led Mara and Leliana out of the study and to the stately front door. “If we can be of your service again, you need only ask.” Viago took her hand and bowed his head. “Lady Inquisitor.” Viago then turned to Leliana, bowing his head to her as well. “Sister Nightingale. Safe travels.”

The Inquisitor and the Spymaster raised their hoods, walking through the doorway. It was still raining, but the rain had let up considerably.

There were too many pieces of information puzzling Leliana at the moment. What was most important, however, was to find Cullen’s sisters before the Qunari.

As if reading her mind, Mara spoke as she climbed onto her horse. “They’re in Ferelden, in the settlement of South Reach.”

Mara secured her pack, then gathered the reins in her hands. “There aren’t active Eluvians anywhere close to there…Even if we travel nonstop, it’ll still take a full day to reach them.”

Leliana released a raven carrying her urgent message before climbing on her horse. “Then we’ll travel nonstop.” Leliana wasn’t one to question the Inquisitor. “How are you feeling?”

Mara cleared her throat. “Much better.” She squeezed the horse with her calves, cueing the horse to begin their long journey across Thedas, down the coastline. Leliana applied a tight squeeze, spearheading her horse south and into the night.


	19. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor and Leliana traverse Thedas to save the Qunari's next mark.
> 
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On horseback, Leliana and Mara traversed south along the Antivan coast in the dead of the night. Hooves beating against muddied coastline, the air thick in fog and alarm. The horses carried their passengers at their penultimate speed, resting only when the party’s path became surrounded by water on both sides. 

Mara looked ahead, fisherman’s boats bobbing quietly in the morning cold and dense fog. The coast was quiet other than the clash of the boats against the water, anchored to posts on the docks. 

They needed someone to provide them passage across the waters to Ferelden. Someone willing and whose boat large enough to hold their party and horses. Mara slid off her horse, securing the reins to a post outside of a rustic tavern just beyond the docks. Leliana followed suit, securing her horse, then followed Mara into a tavern, the only structured establishment within sight.

The tavern was densely fumed in fish and ale—both scents stale after decades of ruminating. There were only two people in the tavern, the barkeep and a fisherman in the corner quietly drinking from a metal mug.

Leliana approached the barkeep first as to not draw attention. The barkeep had just finished wiping down a glass with a ratty towel, throwing the towel on his broad but aged shoulders as he finished.

“Good day.” Leliana began, polite but reserved.

The barkeep nodded in acceptance to her greeting, taking the towel from his shoulder to wipe down the bar top.

“We are interested in passage to Ferelden. Do you know who might lead an excursion there?”

The barkeep’s mood soured a little with a grunt, and so Mara chimed. “Can we start with coffee, please?” Mara stepped forward brandishing a kind smile, placing coins on the bar. 

The barkeep eased his demeanor when he saw the Inquisitor’s smile. Something about it was comforting and softened his hardened exterior. Leliana noticed this affect, _again_ , as people let their guard down easily for her.

The barkeep came back with two mugs and poured fresh, steaming coffee from a canister. “Thank you,” they replied in unison, lifting the mugs to pour the watered down and tasteless coffee down their throats. It was an art to not grimace at the awful taste. This must be what tea tastes like for Solas.

When Mara set her empty mug back on the counter and dabbed her mouth with a napkin, the barkeep spoke up for the first time.

“The feller in the corner is who yer looking fer. Ship cap’ain.”

She braced another smile for her response. “Thank you. Good day to you.” Leliana and Mara turned at once and approached the quiet ship captain in the corner. He appeared a brooding fellow, weathered face from decades at sea and in the sun. 

“Good morning, ser.” Leliana started. “The owner said you are a captain. Can we trouble you with faire to Ferelden?”  
  


The ship captain looked ahead for several seconds, not turning to look at the two women. “On what business?” His voice was low and gruff.

“To visit family.” Mara added in. “My sisters wrote that our mother has taken ill.” The lie spun turned the captain’s gaze to the two women.

“Sorry to hear that.” The captain responded gruffly, his hooked nose turned to the pair. “Is it just you two?”

“Yes ser. And our horses.”

The captain nodded and retuned his empty mug to the table. “We should leave soon then. Let’s get you to your mother.” The ship captain stood, his gait a little stiff as he led the two outside the tavern and to the ship, Leliana and Mara retrieving their horses before boarding.

Leliana remained silent for the first half of the trip, looking out over the water then back to Mara. “Your persuasion is an art. It continues to surprise me.” Mara turned her gaze from the water and to Leliana. “Before the Inquisition, when you were with your clan, did you say you were a spy?”

Mara opened her mouth before speaking. That life was several years ago. So far ago that it felt like a different life. A separate life. “I was first to the Keeper…training for one day to be my clan’s Keeper. I was sent to report on and navigate human affairs. And at the conclave, yes. I was sent as a spy.”  
Mara paused, remembering a token of truth. “I was young when I started training, and when I trained to interact with humans, my Keeper gave me a piece of advice. She told me to smile with whomever I was engaging—donning a smile so that humans saw my spirit and not my ears. I had to draw them in and away from their hesitance and distrust of Elves. Otherwise I would never be heard. I guess the reaction is engrained now.”

“It’s not a bad thing, Mara. And I have seen that it is quite effective. People see you. And they believe you. What started as precautionary advice has allowed you to unite so many people across Thedas.” Another pause, as she herself was softened with her time with the Inquisitor. “I’d like to think if the world was very different, I’d still work with you. I can see you being particularly effective as a spy. Or even an assassin. You would give me a run for my title.”

“That means a lot to me, Leliana. I am very thankful you’re here.”

**_____**

A sinister feeling blanketed the cold air as they approached. The otherwise dark horizon flamed in a bright red-orange as thick grey smoke wafted vertically.

Mara squeezed her calves against her horse, charging at full speed as the Rutherford home grew on the horizon, the focal point of their journey and the flickering fire.

She couldn’t forgive herself if the worst had happened, if she was one minute too late, or entirely too late. She went against her better judgment and allowed Sister Laudine to assist the Inquisition at Cullen’s request. Going against her instincts already led to the deaths of Lieutenant Harding’s parents, and perhaps more deaths of the Inquisition’s family and loved ones.

The horses simultaneously stopped about a hundred yards from the residence, whinnying in cries. Mara and Leliana both slid from their horses to observe the horrific scene. Dozens of agents were slain across the ground. The spilt blood mixed with the smoke in a petrifying concoction.

Mara and Leliana stepped through the bodies, walking carefully while alert toward the residence, their weapons drawn.

Although blood coated the faces and armor of the slain, the dead were not recognized as their own agents. Leliana bent down to one of the slain warriors, noting the inscriptions on their battle axe.

“They’re Qunari.” Leliana noted, rising to a stance.

Mara remained quiet, needing to know the next answer. She allowed her eyes to search the house and noted that while the house was on fire... it wasn’t burning? Or if it were burning, there must be charms to slow the fire.

Her heart beat pounded in her ears, her breath quickening as she walked up the steps to the porch. She sensed a ward by the front door and forced herself to exhale slowly before raising her voice. “Mia? Rosalie?” Fear bled through her voice.

Mara and Leliana waited in silence, each second tearing their hearts. After 30 seconds, Mara spoke again. “The Inquisition is here for you.”

20 seconds passed until a loud _thunk_ was heard from the inside. A _thunk_ that she hoped wasn’t a body slumping to the floor.

As hope became bleak, her shouting became more rushed. “It’s me, Mara.”

10 seconds later there were noticeable steps from the inside.

“Mara? The Inquisitor?” Mia’s live voice sparked hope for the first time since learning the Qunari’s mark.

“Mia!” There was elation in Mara’s voice and in her eyes. She heard Leliana take a breath behind her. Apparently she had been holding her breath too. “Leliana and I are here for you and Rosalie. Are you okay?”

There was a pause on the other side until Mia’s voice trembled in response. “How do we know it’s you?”

Mara had to think of something that signifies who she was and that they were finally safe. “Two winters ago, Cullen brought me home to meet your family.”

~

“Are you sure you want to do this, Inquisitor?” Cullen had his reservations visiting his family, let alone bringing her along. The Inquisition finally had a few days without worry and without schedules, and Mara insisted on fulfilling Mia’s request after discovering her letters.

“You need to see them,” Mara quipped. “Besides, I’m happy to meet them.” Cullen mostly kept tight-lipped about his family, but over the years he had shared tidbits. While Cullen had family who wrote and cared for him, Mara did not have that. She was the last survivor of her clan.

Cullen sighed, watching how she was a little happy to be joining him. She rarely displayed happiness these days. “Will I regret this?”

“Most assuredly, not. We’ll have a good time.” Mara even brandished a small smile while throwing a pack over her shoulders. “Ready, Commander?”

Cullen tried to quell the thrumming in his heart as her face broke into a smile. He was quite worried of the impression it would make to bring her home. She was the first woman he ever brought home, and she had no idea of the resounding stirrings within him.

They left on horseback in the morning, arriving at the home in the early afternoon. “We’re here.” An unmistakable sigh escaped Cullen. He dropped from his horse then walked over and offered his hand to help her down.

“Thanks,” Mara responded, clearing her throat as she took his hand and dropped down. She chalked it up to familial customs and moved on in thought. “This is your brother’s home?”

Cullen walked the horses to the stable and Mara followed.

“Yes, although Branson won’t be joining us. He is away and couldn’t make it on short notice”. He patted the horses after bringing them water and food. “My sisters Mia and Rosalie are here.”

“And Mia is the one who writes you?” Mara asked, patting the horses before exiting the stables.

“...yes. She is the one who incessantly writes.”

“I wouldn’t call it that. She cares for you, Cullen”. Mara followed Cullen up to the residence, and the two now stood on the porch.

After a pause, he knocked on the door and awaited the worst afternoon. He looked over to Mara who looked so calm and genuinely a little happy to be here. He also noticed a twig in her hair.

“Mara.” He said her same softly. He reached up to her face and gently pulled the twig from her hair.

At that moment, the door opened up to a Commander and an Inquisitor gazing at one other. A snapshot of his hidden affections now on display.

Their heads turned at once to the blonde sisters at the door. “You actually made it!” The older sister pulled Cullen into a tight hug, and let go only for the younger sister to hug him second. Greetings and warm giggles aside, at once they realized their guest at the door.

“Inquisitor, these are my sisters Mia,” Cullen gestured to the older sister. “And Rosalie.” He gestured to his youngest sister.

Both sisters bowed their heads in unison. “Inquisitor.”

Mara reached out her hand to shake theirs. “Mara is just fine.” She shook their hands in turn. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mia and Rosalie. Thank you for inviting me.”

Mia backed away from the door and gestured to the living room. “Please come in.” Cullen allowed Mara to step forward first before following her. Mia and Rosalie shared glances with Cullen as the Inquisitor found a spot to settle in.

His family were welcoming, warm, and eager to see their brother. It was evident they had so much admiration for his work, even if they didn’t quite understand it. They loved him so much, and Cullen did too— even if he wasn’t the best at writing letters. Warm sustenance was shared over laughter and charming memories of Cullen’s youth.

They were kind, and when a sudden winter storm forced their stay, the Rutherford sisters happily provided warm blankets and lodging.

As Mia helped make the guest bed for Mara, they were finally alone and she was free to ask.

“Mara... May I ask you something?” Mia replaced the linen pillowcases on the guest pillows.

“Go ahead.” Mara prepared for a retelling of any one of their adventures and helped dress the bed in fresh linens.

Mia paused, fluffing the pillows. “You’re the only woman our brother has ever brought home.” Mia turned to face Mara and looked to her with warmth and an almost sisterly affection. “Why aren’t you together?”

So this was the brazenness Cullen had alluded to in the letters, or at least an example.

Mara opened her mouth and struggled to find the right words. Despite her best effort, her cheeks reddened.

The truth that she couldn’t say was that her heart had already been given to a lover who left. That even if he never returned, she many not ever have a heart to give.

But she couldn’t say that to Mia or to a family who had shown her acceptance and warmth. To a family that had shown her a glimpse of sisterhood.

After a sufficient amount of silence, Mara looked back to Mia with a warm smile. “Thank you for letting me stay during the storm. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Mia nodded back and bit her lip, reading into any possible clues. “Goodnight Mara”.

~

“There was a snowstorm that night and you let us stay with you.” Mara gulped then lowered her head, pressing her forehead against the door. “I couldn’t give you a good answer then. But I care for him. And I care about you.”

There was another pause, followed by hurried footsteps. Mara lifted her head and the door swung opened to a wide-eyed and scared Rutherford sister. “Mara!” Mia exclaimed, jumping into a hug, sobbing before her arms were fully around her.

Mara embraced her tightly, relieved that she was alive. “Are you okay?...Is Rosalie okay?”

Mia sniffed and pulled back to look at Mara fully. “Rosalie’s scared, but she’s okay. She is hiding in a cupboard.”

The leader returned in Mara. “Mia, I need you to get Rosalie and pack a bag. We have to leave. Leliana and I will take you somewhere safe. Okay?” Mara waited for Mia to nod or show some recognition of her words.

“It stopped just minutes before you arrived...” Mia’s voice trailed as she recalled earlier events. Her eyes had become glassy reliving the enemy rioting on their land for their deaths.

“There might be more coming. Leliana and I will stay down here to keep watch.” Mara brought a comforting hand to Mia’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She returned the sisterly affection once shown to her.

Mia finally nodded and raced back into the house.

“There are dozens of Qunari slain”. Leliana started, watching the expanse of the night. “And no other agents.”

The agents looked as though they had been eviscerated in one fell swoop. The scent of iron and smoke was abhorrent, but more pleasant than the sight deep lacerations and the blood pooled from dozens on the property

Mara was trying to figure out their next move. _Where do we take them? A safe house?...If she disclosed the locations of next of kin for senior members, so many will need protection or relocation..._

She knew where they needed to be. “We have to secure them passage to our hold.”

Leliana drew in a long breath but came to the same conclusion. “We need to reach a larger town so we can dispatch agents to accompany and secure their travel.”

There was so much at stake and too much that needed to be decided within the confines of their hold. They had to take action for the incoming wave of Sister Laudine’s treason.

Within minutes, hurried footsteps rushed through the front door. Rosalie sobbed as Mia led her to the entrance, Mia’s arm wrapped around Rosalie’s trembling shoulders.

“Rosalie.” Mara’s voice was soft and compassionate, but urgent. “My colleague Leliana and I will bring you both to our agents. Our agents will then travel with you to an Inquisition hold.”

Rosalie fought back tears as her voice drowned in sorrow. “Where’s Cullen?” She sniffed.

Without missing a beat, Leliana interjected. “We got here first. He should be at our hold by the time you arrive. But we do need to hurry.” Truth was they had no idea where Cullen was, or if he knew of his disastrously treacherous dead ex-girlfriend, or that she was responsible for trying to slay his family.

“We’ll travel on our horses.” Mara looked at the incoherent path of death between them and the horses. “Follow us, and then we’ll ride together.” Mara started out, cautiously choosing a path among the dead forces. Even if she missed stepping on the extremities of the dead, it was impossible to not tread on the thick, soiled, and bloodied mud. 

Rosalie continued to whimper and held tightly to Mia. After careful traversing, the party approached the horses.  
“Rosalie, I’ll ride with Mara.” Mia passed her pack to Mara to secure it to the horse.

“Can I have your pack, Rosalie?” Leliana offered compassion not often seen.  
Rosalie sniffed again and handed Leliana her pack, who then secured the pack to their horse.

Leliana and Mara helped the sisters onto their horses before joining and heading out into the dark.

~

After a few hours of traveling west, their first stop was Lothering. Leliana penned a letter to their agents and sent it while Mia and Rosalie refreshed and found some food. The party was silent for much of the journey, as the safety and comfort of the Rutherford sisters’ home grew further away with each gallop.

The group continued northwest for several more hours and a crow found their party by landing on Leliana’s shoulder. With one hand, Leliana removed the parchment from its beak, and the crow fluttered away. Opening the parchment, she skimmed through the contents before speaking aloud.

“Charter and Blackwall will meet us east of Halamshiral.” She folded up the letter and placed it in her pocket. “Rosalie, Mia. You will stay with our agents tonight in Halamshiral. They will take you to our hold tomorrow after you’ve had a chance to rest.”

“You won’t be with us?” A tremble returned to Rosalie’s voice after hours of silence.

“Leliana and I will continue on tonight, but we will see you when you arrive tomorrow.” Mara interjected and remembered the Eluvian map in her pack. If she remembered correctly, there was an Eluvian near Halamshiral, so they could make it back to the hold tonight.

“You will be safe with our agents.” Leliana added. “If I remember the stories correctly, the Inquisitor and Blackwall have slain several dragons together.”

Rosalie’s eyes widened then remained quiet. A few minutes passed before the other sister spoke, a little quieter and just to Mara.

“Thank you for writing me back the past few years.” Mia sighed as her body bobbed with the horse trotting. “You write more than my brother.”

Mara smiled and felt Mia tighten her hold as if to hug her. “I enjoy hearing from you. It helps to keep me grounded when nothing about my life is normal.” Mara paused as her heart sunk with the next thought. “I’m so sorry that you were put in harm’s way…This is my fault.”

Mia rested her head on Mara’s shoulder, not understanding how it happened but she couldn’t blame the Inquisitor. Or her brother. “But you came for us. Thank you.”

At dusk, the party arrived to the meeting spot east of Halamshiral, off the main road and in private. Underneath the shade of a Willow, the party arrived to find Blackwall and Charter waiting.

“Thank you for meeting us.” Mara slid down from her horse then retrieved her pack. Leliana followed suit. “These are our agents Charter,” Mara pointed to her elven spy. “And Blackwall.” Mara gestured toward the rugged and burly warrior, some grey whiskering into his hair and beard.

“I can tell you’re the Commander’s sisters. Did you know we call him Golden boy?” Blackwall let out a gruff laugh.

Mia held out a hand to shake theirs. “I’m Mia.” She shook Charter’s hand first and then Blackwall’s. His shake was a firm and comforting tug. “And my sister Rosalie.” She was about to drop down from her horse.

“No sense leaving your horse now. We’ll be riding them into town. Charter has already secured rooms at an Inn for the evening.” Blackwall brought water to the horses, patting its shoulders. “Almost there.” His voice was low and soothing to the horses. He knew they had quite a journey from Antiva to Ferelden and now to Halamshiral. 

Mara walked over to Charter and in hushed whispers asked “Has Cullen returned?”

Charter kept her voice low. “He is expected this evening Inquisitor.”

“Thank you Charter.” Mara nodded and then backed away. 

Charter slid onto Rosalie’s horse, while Blackwall moved toward Mia’s. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.” Blackwall climbed onto Mia’s horse then secured the reigns.

“I’ve heard you’re a dragon slayer.” Mia retorted as the burly man sat in front of her.

A throaty chuckle escaped him. “That and many other beasts. You’re in great hands with the Inquisition.” Blackwall turned to Mara and Leliana on the ground. “We’ll see you tomorrow Inquisitor.”

“See you soon.” Mara answered back and watched the party leave the privacy of the willow’s shade.

When out of earshot, Leliana started. “There’s an Eluvian near here, isn’t there?”

“Lucky for us, yes.”

“Let’s go then.”

~

Within two hours, Mara and Leliana finally made it to the hold. The weight of recent events felt heavier now that they were safe. Adrenaline and a warrior’s spirit kept their momentum, and now from the comforts of their hold they had to make more decisions.

With the front doors open, savory scents of dinner entrees and the hum of dialogue drifted. Mara scanned the great hall, and to her fortune Cullen had finally returned. He stood from his spot at a dinner table, quickly strolling over to Leliana and Mara.

“Inquisitor.” Cullen bowed his head to her and pulled a thrice folded parchment from his armor. “You have my agreement.” Cullen handed over the proposal to Mara and she accepted with a bitten lip. Mara looked over to Leliana who nodded, and so she proceeded.

“We need to talk Commander. All of us.” Mara ordered, but at least wanted to give him grace in hearing the news. Leliana understood.

“I will find Cassandra and ask for her to meet us in the war room right away. And send for our dinner.”

“Thank you Leliana.” Mara looked down, exhaling a long breath before raising her head to look back at Cullen. “I need to talk to you before they join us.” She whispered, but forced herself to look him in the eye.

Cullen tilted his head and searched her face. Her hair was a little unkempt and rough from travel. Mud drenched the end of her armor along with blood stains. “Of course Inquisitor.” Cullen nodded, then gestured openly for her to lead the way.

Traversing the corridors, Mara still didn’t know how to tell him. And when the door to the war room opened and closed, she hadn’t made any progress.

Eyes closed, Mara began. “Cullen, I…” She stopped, opening her eyes. Cullen had brought his hand to the crown of her hair and pulled a twig from her disheveled braid.

“You look tired, Mara.” He commented, watching her closely. To be fair, it had been a few days since she slept.

“I think we should sit.” Mara waited for Cullen to reluctantly take a seat in an armchair before sitting herself. “When Lieutenant Harding’s parents passed, our agents investigated the cause. When I returned from the stone house, Leliana and I learned their death was a result of a double agent.”

Cullen shuffled his weight in his seat, cocking his head.

Mara sucked in a breath to steady her nerves. She had given bad news hundreds of times, but this felt different. “When we learned the identity of the double agent, we asked for the Antivan Crows to assist us in tracking. Within a day, they were located and captured. Leliana and I set out a few days ago to investigate further.”

Cullen’s fingers tapped the armchair as he waited.

Mara swallowed and quelled the nerves. “The double agent was Sister Laudine.” Mara watched the surprise and betrayal flash in his eyes. “She was turned after joining us, and she sold secrets both to the Qunari and the Imperium. I was able to ascertain what she knew and what she passed on.”

Cullen stood in anger and began pacing the room.

“What she sold to the Imperium was false information. But she did sell private information to the Qunari, including some names and ranks of the Inquisition… and their families.”

Cullen stopped mid-pace and turned to look at Mara. “Her sold secrets were responsible for Lieutenant Harding’s parents… Leliana and I had to stop their next target.”

Mara could see Cullen’s heart sink to his stomach as he slumped against the arm of the sofa.

“Leliana and I traveled on horseback all night from Antiva to South Reach.” She could not let him think the worst. She placed a hand on his arm above his wrist. “Cullen.” Although heavy, there was velvety warmth to her voice. “We made it to them. We secured Mia and Rosalie.”

“What?” He asked, just to make sure. His eyes were misty and afraid to hope.

“Leliana and I reached them last night and then brought them to Halamshiral this evening where Charter and Blackwall intercepted. Our agents are with them now and will bring them to the hold tomorrow after they fully rest tonight.”

In disbelief Cullen knelt before herand pulled Mara into a hug. She allowed it, relaxing her tense body to hug him back.

“I forgot your family are huggers.” She quipped, trying to diffuse some of the heaviness.

A small chuckle escaped him. “That they are… I can smell Mia’s perfume on you.”

“Um.” Mara didn’t know how that scent came through when there were competing scents of sweat, blood, and dirt. “Mia rode with me on my horse.”

He looked to her in wonder and deep gratitude. “You haven’t slept for days, have you?” He could have kissed her. If there ever was a reason, this was it. She traveled all across Thedas to save his sisters when any number of agents could have gone in her place. He allowed himself to marvel as his lips parted.

A cleared throat from the door snapped Cullen from the whim. He retreated swiftly and rose to greet Cassandra and Leliana. He moved forward to Leliana and offered to shake her hand. “Thank you for saving them.” His eyes were genuine and vulnerable.

“Of course, Commander. It is our duty.” She shook his hand then exhaled. “Settle in everyone. There’s a lot to plan.”

Cullen, Leliana, and Cassandra sat around the war table and waited as Mara retold the events.

Cassandra cleared her throat before speaking. “Is Sister Laudine dead?”

Leliana answered before Mara had the chance. “Yes. By my hands.”

There was a palpable uneasiness as Cullen digested the depth of her betrayal and her finite fate.

“How do we know the names, role, and family members are all that was sold to the Qunari?” Another poignant question by Cassandra.

Mara drew in a deep breath. “I used magic that is still new to me. I was able to… enter her mind—and effectively read her mind.”

Leliana interjected as there were questions of validity. “She answered unspoken questions. Or at least that’s what it looked like to me.”

Everyone was hesitant to ask the obvious and Cullen sensed it. “She broke things off with me the day I left for our meeting.” He shifted his weight in his seat. “I didn’t know.”

“Inquisitor, how many families’ identities and locations were sold?” Leliana redirected to the task to be worked through.

“Twelve that I’m certain of.” Mara retrieved colored pins to mark the map of Thedas. “Of those were Lieutenant Harding’s parents and Cullen’s sisters… That leaves 10 families.” Mara began to dot Thedas with 10 pins. Other pins already placed indicated holds, forts, and safe houses. 

“So do we send forces to defend the homes or relocate families?” The Commander was ready to commandeer his forces.

“There were about 40 Qunari slain in South Reach. More waves were likely. I think we have to secure the families first and lead them to available properties”. Mara knew this was a massive task but still wasn’t sure _who_ cleared the Qunari just before their arrival.

“We need to activate our forces as soon as tomorrow.” Leliana proposed.

“And a plan established tonight.” Cassandra added.

The four hovered over the map, perceiving the options to save the unwitting families and loved ones.

After three hours, the Inner Circle devised a lan to secure and relocate the ten families in peril. Hundreds of agents would be deployed across Thedas within the hours.

Before Cullen left to command his forces, he needed one more moment.

“May I walk with you, Inquisitor?”

Leliana and Cassandra had just left the war room, leaving Mara and Cullen as the last to exit.

Duty never ceased. As the adrenaline left her, it took the last of her strength to climb the stairs to her room and attend to work matters. “Of course Commander.”

They passed two flights of stairs before Cullen broke the silence. As they round the corridor to her room, he spoke. “Words do not suffice for my thanks.”

They made it to her door. Mara leaned against the door frame, looking up to her golden friend. “I did what I had to.”

Cullen shuffled his weight, leaning his arm above her and against the door frame. He drew closer to her, magnetized by her bravery.

“I’m sorry about Sister Laudine. I know you really cared for her.”

Cullen’s demeanor changed, bowing his head and sighing.

“What she felt for you was real though.”

Cullen raised his eyes to look into hers. Her eyes were full and sympathetic. “Did she tell you?”

Mara swallowed and nodded. “She did… I think she was scared of what might happen to the world. She had been approached by the Qunari before joining us, but she had declined then.

Recently the Qunari approached her again and offered her protection, for when the Qun would presumably rule… And so she sold our secrets.”

Cullen stiffened and removed his arm from the door frame. This would not be their moment.

Cullen gazed at her, wound in polar feelings of betrayal, gratitude, and disbelief. But there was no doubt as to the singular feeling for her resounding within his soul.

“Don’t forget this.” Cullen handed Mara the letter from Solas. She had forgotten it in the war room and her signature was the last needed. “And get some rest.”

One last feeble and exhausted smile. “Thank you. Goodnight Commander.”


	20. In Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescue and the realization.
> 
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Cullen hardly slept that morning, doling out the urgent plans to secure ten families across Thedas before the Qun would move against their next targets.

Nothing in this life was guaranteed, and his life would continue to change in unexpected ways. For the first time his family life and his work collided and his sisters would see first hand a side to their brother he had kept tucked away for decades. They were proud of him, but their understanding of his work was vague at best.

With decades of poor dialogue, they had frozen Cullen in time, as a devoted but unsteady, skittish young man afraid to seek out a life for himself other than the Templar life.

His one recent visit, a few years back with Mara, was the first time his sisters realized he had grown—in responsibility, in maturity, and in confidence as an experienced man in his late thirties.

And now, they would glimpse the Commander of possibly the most influential of forces in all of Thedas.

Cullen paced outside along the front entrance of the hold. Charter had messaged they should be expected in the early afternoon after a restful night just outside Halamshiral.

Arms crossed, his fingertips strummed his armored forearms. Two worlds that did not understand each other would collide any moment.

His ears perked as his heard gallops, the horses and party coming into sight just over the pastured hill. A sigh of relief escaped him, seeing his two sisters alive and well thanks to the timely and miraculous work on the Inquisitor. His thanks would never be enough.

Blackwall’s horse stopped first in front of the hold. “Afternoon Commander.” Blackwall eased himself down before offering a sturdy hand to Mia. The appreciation in her tired smile was genuine in sparkle. “Precious cargo has arrived.”

Mia laughed, turning a fond smile from Blackwall to her brother, rushing forward to hold him tightly.

Charter dropped from her horse and helped Rosalie down, who was visibly emotional from the journey. Rosalie ran forward to her brother, who wrapped his other arm around her.

“I’m so glad you two are safe.”

He wasn’t one to display affections or softness and quickly became aware of the eyes on him. His loosened his hold on them, as Blackwall and Charter removed the packs from their horses.

“Are you hungry? We can get you lunch in the grand hall before you settle in.”

The sisters both nodded, breathing in a sigh of relief as they were safe.

“Thank you Thom. Charter.”

“Happy to lend a hand, Commander.” Blackwall’s voice was gruff and dry from the travel. “I’ll take the horses to the stable, Charter if you’ll take the packs to where the girls are staying.”

Cullen held his breath as he hoped they wouldn’t be staying in the fort. He would be too accessible for their incessant wants to bother him.

“I believe the Inquisitor said cottage number eight, just past the bend in the river.” Charter chimed in, strapping the packs to her back. “We’ll see you later, Commander. Rosalie, Mia enjoy your lunch.”

Charter and Blackwall both turned, heading in opposite directions.

“How was the journey?” Cullen approached the steps of the front entrance of the fort, leading his two sisters whose tired eyes were taking in the grand sight as the giant doors opened.

“It was...long.” Mia quieted as she took in the structure and decor of the grand hall. Long tables, bustle and murmur of the end of the lunch hour. “I wouldn’t choose again to be on a horse for two days.”

As they entered the hall, all agents they passed paused and saluted Cullen with a bent arm to the chest. Repeated and respected _Commander’s_ followed them until they sat at an empty long table.

“They stop for you?” Mia observed, questioning as much as stating.

Kitchen staff brought out plates to the Rutherford family, setting warm and comforting food on the table.

“I command our forces.” Cullen paused to fill their glasses with water from the metal pitcher on the table. “I make many of our decisions to deploy our troops.”

Rosalie gulped her water as Mia finally began to see his importance. Mia bit into a chicken leg.

Cullen paused before starting on his lunch.

“The Inn we stayed at last night was very nice. Blackwall told some of the most fascinating stories.” Mia finished her chicken before moving on to her vegetables. “Did you call him Thom?”

Cullen cleared his throat before answering. “Blackwall is erm... a war time name. His first name is Thom though.”

He looked over to Rosalie who had barely eaten.

“Are you not hungry kiddo?”

Rosalie was stabbing different food with her fork but not eating it.

“I think we’re both tired.” Mia interjected, also not wanting to relay their fears in an open and new space, away from their home and most of their possessions. And home perhaps left for a final time.

“You two can rest after lunch. I’ll walk you to the cottage you’ll stay in.”

Mia nodded, clearing more of her plate before continuing. Mia lowered her voice. “Is Mara around?” She exhaled a long breath. “We’d like to thank her.”

“I assume she is resting. She hadn’t slept for a number of days, trying to get to you.” Cullen watched as Rosalie’s tired head slouched onto Mia’s shoulder. “Speaking of which, you should too.”

The siblings finished their meal, then followed the riverbank to a quaint cottage overlooking the water. Tall cattails and flowers dusted over the ground. Dark green ivy climbed up the side of the residence.

The two walked Rosalie to one of the two bedrooms, lying her down affectionately before turning to leave and close her bedroom door.

There was so much Mia wanted to ask without the prying ears of their little sister. “Is this our new home?” Her voice broke over the simple yet weighted question.

Cullen sighed, looking into the lit fire in the bricked fireplace. “You’ll be here at least for a few days. We need to review our options and assess what is safe.”

Mia nodded and bit her bottom lip to keep from crying. The reality of escaping death felt too heavy to bear.

“You’re safe here. And we’ll assign an additional guard for your cottage.”

And there he watched his sister crumble. He brought her into a hug as she let out a low sob, feeling everything she had held at bay for two days.

The screaming and shouting as the Qunari pounded on their door and did all they could to break through. The pleas of Rosalie and trying to hide her somewhere safe.

Waiting and crying and staying still in hope for it to pass as would a storm.

And then the voice of a woman who would save them.

“It was the worst night of my life.” Mia’s lip quivered as it threatened to spill forth another sob.

“I’m so sorry.” He patted her back but knew nothing would truly comfort her after living through her own horrors.

Mia sniffed and took a few deep breaths. “I think I will try to rest now.”

“Good idea. Dinner will be in the hall again. A guard can walk you and Rosalie back to the fort.”

As Cullen shuffled toward the front door, Mia couldn’t help but to confess. “She’s pretty special, isn’t she?”

There was no question of whom Mia was referring. Mia watched as her brother froze before responding. “She’s known to do the impossible.”

The question was a feeler, but his response harbored the affection he had carried for years.

“We’ll see you for dinner, Cullen.”

~

Just after dark, Mara left the fort to visit cottage number eight. She had slept, but poorly, and again awoke to a frightened gasp as the dream Cullen and his sword found her again. How long would her mind play out the scenario in a new and grotesque way? It was unrealistic to think that saving his family would stop the curse.

But alas, no.

She had spent the afternoon in consecutive meetings, hearing the reports of agents who had been dispatched to recover family members. Being informed of the movements of the Qunari. The movements of the Tevinter in response to Qunari seizing cities.

It never ended. Never paused. And her hand in all of this would always be necessary.

As she approached the cottage, she was greeted by two agents standing guard.

“Good evening, Inquisitor.” They saluted before the mage altered the ward to allow her entry into the home.

Mara approached the door with a steady knock, promising to be in the moment. Regardless of her exhaustion, regardless of the figurative heavy crown lain on her braided hair.

After a moment the door cautiously opened, then swung open once Mia realized her guest.

“Mara! Come in.”

“Hi Mia.” Mara stepped across the threshold of the cottage. It was quiet other than the crackle of the fire burning in the fireplace. “I just wanted to check in with you and Rosalie to see how you’re settling in.”

Mia brought a mug of steaming tea from the kitchenette to the living room and settled in to the sofa. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Mara sat in the armchair opposite the sofa. This was her first time in the cottage, and she hoped it was enough to bring some comfort to the sisters. “Is Rosalie resting?”

Mia sipped her tea before answering. “She went back to bed after dinner.” She focused on the warmth the mug brought to her hands. “This is a nice little home. We’re lucky to have somewhere to stay right now.”

A heavy guilt weighed on Mara. She was responsible for employing the double agent, and the many families who were lost or displaced from the treason. She was the reason the Rutherfords had to leave everything they owned.

Mia looked to Mara and sensed the heaviness in her eyes. “Rosalie and I want to thank you. We would not be here without you.” Mia set down her tea on a wooden coaster.

“Cullen told us you traveled for days to make it to South Reach. We appreciate what you, and Leliana, and the Inquisition have done for us.”

You’re welcome could never be enough. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” A long exhale. “We have agents looking for Branson to let him know you’re safe and with us. You said he and your nephew were returning from a trip to Redcliffe?”

“Yes... and,” Mia took another sip of her tea. “Branson may be...weary. And skeptical. He’s heard a lot of things, much of which might not be true. I thought you should know. Just in case.”

“I’ll share that with my agents. Thank you.” Mara looked around and noted the chess set that was added to the cottage by her request.

“Would you like to play a round of chess? I’ve heard you’re a rather good player.”

Mia raised her eyebrows then smirked. There was only one way she would know and it wasn’t in their shared letters. “He told you?”

Mara set the pieces on the wooden board on the coffee table. “He used to play a lot more in the early days of the Inquisition. He played against anyone willing in the courtyard—and won. In time we saw he especially enjoyed besting cheaters. Took pride in it. After another defeat with one of our friends, he asked me to play.”

All the pieces were set on the board.

“Did you try to cheat him?” Mia asked curiously, and made her first move.

“No. I played fair—and I think it surprised him.” Mara moved her first piece. “When we played, we realized it was the first time we had spoken about anything other than the Inquisition.”

Mia watched Mara’s initial move closely, pausing before moving another piece.

“Is that when you became friends?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Mara didn’t realize she was smiling until she felt Mia’s eyes burning on her. Mara took her turn. “He told me about your family, where you were raised. He said that you would always defeat him in chess, and so he practiced with Branson.”

Mia looked pleased with this information. “Is this why there’s a chess set in our cottage?” Mia’s rook took Mara’s pawn.

“I know it’s not much, but I wanted you to feel safe here. And if something small made it feel like home, then we had to.” Mara moved a piece that took Mia’s rook.

“That’s really nice of you to do, Mara. And for you to remember that.” Mia took her turn.

“When you spend years with the same group of people, you learn a bit about them.”

“And he knows you pretty well?” Mia knew exactly what she was doing, in her strategy with chess and in conversation.

Mara knew this well and kept her affect neutral. In one swift move she took another one of Mia’s pieces. “All of the highest ranking officials know each other well.”

“My brother...he’s rather important, isn’t he?” Mia’s knight secured another pawn.

“With the Inquisition? Yes. He is one of my advisors. As his title reflects, he commands our forces. He has led our forces successfully into battle since the Inquisition was formed.”

“And to you?” Mia _would_ ask. It would be uncharacteristic for her not to pry.

“The decisions we make, and their impact on the world, require a considerable amount of trust in each other. I have a high regard for Cullen as our commander and as a close friend.” Mara watched as Mia’s lips tightened. “You’re in check.”

Mia huffed as she conceded to this round and conversation. She had to hope, that if anything, it gave Mara something to think about. “Well played Mara. I’m glad my brother has someone who will keep him in check.”

A wry but sisterly smile, followed by a yawn.

“I think I’m going to call it a night. But thank you for coming by tonight.”

Mia stood and walked over to Mara to hug her. “And thank you for saving us.” She whispered into her long and pointed ear.

Mara hugged her back intently and gave her a soft smile. “You’re welcome.” Thanks were hard to come by, and even harder to respond to. It was a thankless role, but thank the Maker they were okay.

Mara returned to the fort and trudged up the stairs en route to her room. When she made it to the second landing, it appeared Cullen was about to retire for the evening as well.

There was a peaceful glint in his eyes when she came into view.

“I just came back from visiting your sisters.”

“And how were they?”

“Rosalie was already asleep, but Mia and I were able to play chess. And she is very good.”

His eyes brightened more as he recalled telling her so many years ago. “But you won?”

Mara paused, smiling. “I think she let me. Just like you.”

In all these years, he had never told her he tanked the game when she had played fairly. He enjoyed winning over opponents who schemed or cheated. But he could not allow for her to be disappointed, when she was rooted in kindness and fairness.

And the realization that her spirit influenced him even then was... unexpected. Had he always carried a torch for her, unbeknownst to even him?

“Goodnight Commander.” Mara interjected into the silence, watching as Cullen pieced together the remnants of their history.

“Goodnight Inquisitor.” His eyes were on the floor, fighting against every impulse to close the gap and sweep her off her feet.


	21. Foolish Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A foolish heart leads.
> 
> Day 1: The Fool  
> #SolavellanTarotArtChallenge2020
> 
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She found herself engrossed in him. Sinking. Falling. Her back arched as he returned her affections thoroughly, fervently, as his hands trailed from her hair down her back, pulling her in closely.

He felt wonderful. This felt wonderful. This felt… _real_.

His top lip flushed against hers, his mouth open and cupping her lower lip. They gave into one another equally as the years culminated into this one moment. With her eyes closed, she felt his mouth brush and kiss down her neck and to her chest. Heat raged through her at his embrace. He paused, feeling the fabric of her low neckline in his fingertips.

“You have a flower?...Over your scar?”

“Yes.” She answered breathlessly. She missed the mouth that grazed her skin in tenderness and wished for its return.

Mara opened her eyes to find gold gazing deeply into hers. Reality set in, unsettling her. Where there was a hand grazing over her chest, there wasn’t a sword ripping through her. There wasn’t blood pooled in her mouth or hemorrhaging from her chest.

Had she finally stopped the cycle—the unrelenting nightmares finally to cease? No longer to relive her friend fatally striking her?

Her lips began trembling, uncertain of what was happening. “You didn’t stab me.”

He raised his head, level with hers. He searched her face trying to read her confusion. “Why would…why would I?” He brought his hand up to her face, tracing his thumb over her cheek. Her face was rose tinted but her eyes were large and searching. “Mara?” Cullen asked, alarmed somewhat that she _felt so real_ in his hold.

Within a breath she awoke in her bed, alone, and breathing quickly in panic. She sat up, waving her hand to turn on a lamp from the bedside table. She looked down at her scar. No blood, but there was a faint burning feeling. It often burned when she was near the one who gave her the scar.

It was probable this could have been the dream to finally bookend the series of nightmares where Cullen attempted to kill her. She had over a dozen of these dreams since the incident, and it was possible she finally changed the narrative by surprising him before he could hurt her.

Although less likely, it might have been possible that she visited him in a dream. She had only ever done this with Solas, and assumed Templars, or ex-Templars, were more immune to dream visitation. She hadn’t tried to find him, had she?

She raised her hand to her face, brushing her lips with her thumb. She had allowed him to kiss her and _she_ initiated the embrace, even if it was to convince him not to harm her. He had kissed her back. And she had sunk in to him.

 _She had tried to change the narrative_.

She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply through her nose, letting the air out through her mouth. She listened to her heart beat thrumming and for any potential sound of footsteps outside her door. There were none. She listened, frozen in silence, for several minutes before convincing herself that it was just a dream. A normal, non-intrusive dream.

She drifted off to sleep with no more sightings of the golden boy, his sword, or his lips.

~

She managed to spend the day outside, avoiding all sightings from the man in her dreams. It was one of the few days her schedule was without meetings or obligations. The hold was more crowded than usual, as some of the displaced families were brought to the fort in the interim. And soon she and Cassandra would finally visit Solas’ fortress, to view the expanse of his resources and influence, and begin formulating the first actions of their alliance.

She awoke early and took one of the horses for a ride through the local landscape. It was liberating being on her own, alone with the wind and the soil underneath the horse’s galloping hooves.

The weight of the nights, weeks, and years lifted as she galloped therapeutically into the wilds. She felt freed and unbridled. For one brief day she wasn’t the Inquisitor vying to save the world from possible destruction from the veil falling, mitigating wars of Tevinter and the Qunari, and restoring magic to the elves.

She was a wild Dalish spirit, gathering resources for her clan that wasn’t eradicated from the earth. She was First to the Keeper, preparing to lead Clan Lavellan for many years to come in Ferelden, peacefully trading with humans and investing in human politics.

Maybe she wouldn’t have ever found love, and she would manage. Tending to her clan would be the most important responsibility and she could happily carry out her duties without distractions. She would see her clan flourish through many generations and train another to replace her when she would pass. This is how it should have been, but how it would never be.

Instead she was the very last of Clan Lavellan, thrust into the politics of the world. Deemed the chosen one by Andraste to save the world from Corypheus, subsequently leading a large force to swiftly provide order when otherwise there was none. Rulers feared her power, and now the Dread Wolf himself offered all in his name to _her_ , to accomplish restoring magic to the elves peacefully. The Dread Wolf whose pride had not ruled him. The Dread Wolf who had conceded and promised to choose one another. The Dread Wolf who had given her his ring of ancient magic. _Her betrothed_.

And then there was her Commander. An honorable man and warrior who had never ceased to serve the Inquisition. The man who had helped her overcome the grief of losing her arm and trained her to be a formidable force in battle with any weapon. A man who had chosen to protect her through any means necessary. A man who couldn’t, however, protect her from his foolish heart.

How did she get here? Why was this confusing? It was perplexing to be around Cullen. It was a work of wonder if she _didn’t_ flinch with his sudden movements. It was a miracle if she _didn’t_ relive the attack in her dreams. If she did try to overcome her fears, he stepped forward and lingered. Wanting. Waiting. And she didn’t allow him to proceed. Not until her dream.

She couldn’t dwell on it. On him. Or the passion in which he returned her kiss. How it was a _good_ kiss that had weakened her and made her feel safe. A friend in whom she had trusted for years. A friend who would vow to continue protecting her.

The skies turned a vivid orange, drawing her from the thoughts she shouldn’t be having. She _didn’t_ feel that way toward him. She would never ride off into the sunset with the golden boy.

She pulled the reins of her horse, turning it around to head back to the fort. She had managed to spend the entire day roaming the land—and her mind.

She knew where her heart lied. It was unmistakable and any alternative was unfathomable.

In no time she was back at the stables, returning the horse and removing the saddle and reins. She gathered a brush and began gingerly brushing the horse affectionately, speaking softly to it. It was rare to have a day to herself, let alone time with animals. She pet the horse down its forehead and nose, grazing the gentle giant. “Thank you for today,” she whispered before turning to the fort. 

With a deep breath she steadied herself and entered the fort. She was welcomed with salutations as she passed by the great hall and carried up the staircase. It was possible last night was really just a dream and not a visited dream. It was another attempt to save herself from the recurring nightmare. She might learn tonight whether her last minute ploy was effective.

As she rounded the last flight of stairs, she stepped onto the corridor of her bedchamber. As the last of the sunlight peered through the windows, it highlighted a flower in the hands of a man that confirmed her fears.

Stepping forward, she approached him as inconspicuously as possible while awaiting his first words.

As she neared him, the flowers came into view—the same flower painted over her chest. The flower he saw last night when she really did visit him in her dreams.

His golden eyes gleamed with a hope she hadn’t seen. A hope that meant he was still relishing the delight of their shared kiss. _Maker’s breath_. The hope evoked new found levels of confidence and an auspicious handsomeness. He was striking and she could feel her cheeks and ears turn red.

“We should talk.” The next part came out rushed in fear he might make another fatal move. “I’ve been horseback riding. Can I find you after I shower? Meet you in your room?”

The scar to the left of his upper lip was more pronounced in the twilight and his confidence. He stepped forward, handing her the arrangement of peonies. She was sure her ears were crimson at this point.

“Thank you.” She whispered, taking the peonies in one hand and stepping back to her door. “I’ll see you soon.”

And with that, without speaking at all, he coolly returned to his room to wait for her.

Upon the closure of the door, she muttered a series of curses under her breath. She felt nervous—which wasn’t an emotion she felt often. She scanned the room and to her fortune Solas wasn’t there just yet. She would need to tell him, but she had to make it through the precarious evening first.

 _Focus on the tasks at hand._ With a quick scan, she spotted a metal vase and brought it with her to the bathroom sink, filling the vase with water. She set the bouquet in the vase, detailing the arrangement to her liking. Stepping forward to smell the bouquet, the petals brushed the tip of her nose and her upper lip. She loved peonies. And now one other soul had stumbled upon her secret.

Once pleased with the arrangement, she brought the vase to the center of her dresser, and then returned to the bathroom. She began loosening the straps to her armor, slipping it off. She moved on to unlacing her leggings, her tunic, and removed all garments. She was bare, other than the hold of her braid. She pulled her hair out of the thick braid, sighing as her hair was free and splayed over her shoulders and chest. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She rarely took a deep look at herself.

Her dirty blonde hair was longer than it had been in her adulthood, just north of her naval. There were small nicks and scars across her body from combat and war. Her new left arm had a subtle gold sheen as it was made by ancient Elvhen magic. Her skin was flushed pink in nerves and anticipation.

She grabbed a bone brush from the vanity and began brushing through her hair in long, slow strokes. She mirrored her breathing with the strokes, willing herself to relax. She was going to talk with a friend. She would reason with a friend. He would understand. Wouldn’t he?

She set down the brush, turning on the water to the shower. Once the shower started to steam, she stepped in and relaxed in the heat. Dousing the shampoo through her hair, she ran her hands over her body, washing the day’s journey from her skin. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply as her fingertips ran over her breasts then down her stomach. In the steam she escaped to thoughts she never let herself think.

If she hadn’t realized it wasn’t merely a dream, how far would she have let him continue? His mouth had already started to roam before she was startled by his asking of the gold foiled flower brandished on her chest.

While she had dated before the Inquisition, she had only given herself to Solas. How far and how long could she have continued if she were under the misconception that she was free to explore her fantasies? She had never even fantasized about him before—or at least not consciously. And now in the steam and blur of the shower, she could feel the heat from his lips on her mouth. 

She flashed open her eyes and pulled away her own roaming hands. What was she thinking? Some band of hormones was clouding her better judgment and her truth. Her body betrayed her heart.

She turned off the water and ran her hands through her hair and down to her neck, twisting the hair at the base of her neck to ring out the water. She could do this. She would do this. Stepping out of the shower, she towel dried her body and gathered a fresh change of clothes. She pulled on a pair of leggings and slipped a billowy tunic over her body. She gazed at herself once more in the mirror, deciding against the braid. It was well into the evening and she would rather have at least one morsel of comfort. In the next breath she turned and left her bedchamber, slowly strolling the corridors until she found herself at his door.

One deep breath in and out resounded in 3 soft knocks on his bedchamber door.

Perhaps a little quickly, the door swung open, if it was possible, to an even bolder golden boy. “You came.” His voice was low and sultry.

Her breath hitched before she could answer. “May I come in?” Her face felt like she was on fire in nervousness.

“Please,” he offered warmly, holding the door for her as she stepped in. “Can I offer you something to drink?” His eyes were fixated at the sight of her. She rarely wore her hair down and had always wanted to tell her he loved her hair naturally freed. The way her hair cascaded down her shoulders made her look like free spirited like her Dalish. He also noted her rose-tinted cheeks. She was a sight to behold.

“Um, tea please.” A shiver broke from her shoulders as her wet hair draped her. She watched as he poured water from a kettle in a stone mug. She was about to ask for sugar when he added in two teaspoons and stirred. He had paid more attention than she realized. He walked back over to her with her tea. 

“Take a seat. Make yourself at home.”

She didn’t realize she was still standing. She felt frozen and disjointed from her body. “Thanks,” she answered, taking the mug from his hand and sitting down at the end of a sofa in the nook of his room. Cullen walked away to his bed and came back with a blanket, draping it around her shoulders. _How long had he watched her and anticipated her needs?_ She gave a small smile to him before sipping the warmth and floral aroma of her tea. He took a seat about two feet from her on the same sofa.

There was a pause as she wondered how to begin. He had started tapping his fingers on the sofa. She drank another sip of her tea before setting the mug down on the table before them.

“Was it real?”

The question could mean so much. Did she really visit him in his sleep? Was it her who initiated the embrace? Did she harbor the very real feelings he felt? Surely she must have with _that_ kiss. She could have devoured him and he would have let her.

“Cullen, I…” Her voice trembled as she was scared with how to say it all. Her stomach started to feel sick and it dawned on her that she would break his heart tonight. He looked to her patiently but brimming in affection. Her heart sunk and she had to look away from his kind and hopeful eyes.

“I’ve been having a recurring dream, more than a dozen times now. I dream and relive when you…”

Her hands trembled in her lap as her chest started to burn along the scar.

“I relive it, but in different ways. It’s often in places where we’ve been the past few years. And I’ve never been able to stop it.” She closed her eyes and swallowed, her throat was tightening in grief.

“When I saw you, I thought it was happening again. Before I’ve tried to stop it with magic, but I always…” It was as if she were stabbed now and she thought she could taste blood pooling in her mouth.

“I’ve never been able to stop it from happening… until last night… Until I tried something new.”

Cullen stiffened at the realization that last night was something else entirely, but it bothered him that she was visibly upset and trembling. “Mara.” He scooted over, placing a strong and warm hand over her trembling hands.

“I’ve never visited someone in their dreams. I didn’t realize what was happening…”

Cullen cleared his throat. “The flower.”

Mara nodded, chewing on her bottom lip.

“And you said, ‘you didn’t stab me’…” Agony filled him. As he was hoping she had explored feelings for him, she spent her nights in torment frequently reminded of his attempted assassination. “Mara, I’m so sorry.” He opened his arms to invite her in and she obliged, her heart heavy all the same.

“I’m sorry Cullen,” her voice was small but she meant it. She felt small for entrancing him with a forbidden kiss. She rested her head on his shoulder, staying a little long in the hug.

“So were you trying to convince me not to hurt you?” He pulled back from her to see her face in all its rosy glory. “ _You had me convinced_.”

Her gaze fluttered from his golden eyes to his scar-laden mouth, and back to his eyes. She could remember exactly how it felt for him to kiss her.

There was no responsible answer she could give.

She remained quiet as her heart pounded, echoing in her ears.

For the third time, he gave her the forbidden look—but there was a trace of restraint. A kiss under false pretenses of romance struck discord within him.

“Mara,” Cullen whispered, almost pleading her name. He had to tell her. It was long past due to state the worst kept secret, and tonight his foolish heart won. In one swift movement, he brought his left hand to the base of her skull, his fingers spreading through her hair and up to her ear. He leaned in to her, softly pressing his lips to hers, giving her one soft and tender kiss before _everything_ would be over. His love poured from his lips to hers and hoped to dwell in this moment forever.

She hadn’t moved, nor had she kissed him back. She was frozen. In all its grandeur from her dream, the buildup was just a fantasy.

But it felt like her heart would beat out of her chest.

He pulled back from her lips, clarity resounding. “I’m in love with you, Mara.”

He searched her eyes, widening in reaction. Her superbly blue eyes were kind, but they were not returning in sentiment.

“And… I don’t think you feel the same.”

Her heart sunk with his, feeling the weight of its break. She placed a hand on his shoulder—a small gesture that wasn’t enough.

His gaze followed her hand and he felt her emotions flood him just like at the stone house, just like when he struck her. Breaking, throbbing, remorse, sorrow. The heavy flood washed over him and churned with his own. Through the river coursed a saving grace, evident, and a lighthouse to his shipwrecked soul. There was a love there—just not in the way he had hoped or desired.

His throat tightened and it was difficult to speak. “You’re doing it again.” His voice was quiet and broken.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t realize I was…” Her voice trailed. While learning ancient Elvhen magic, she had tapped in to a way to share otherwise private thoughts and memories to others through touch. She did not yet have a reign on how she imparted emotions upon others through touch. And she had only shared her emotions with him.  
  


“Don’t.” His voice cracked. He tried to clear his throat. “Don’t apologize. I waited too long to tell you. But I had to know…” He lifted his head to meet her eyes. Still full and blue of feelings. “And now I do.”

He had her sympathies. She pulled him into another hug, resting her head on his shoulder. She stayed there for a moment, hoping he would find some comfort. “Can I ask you something Cullen?”

“Of course.”  
She pulled herself from the hug to look at him again. “Why did you wait to tell me?”

There were many reasons but none were adequate in his stalling. His mouth opened as he searched for the words. “You were sad for so long, Mara. I couldn’t burden you when you were fighting to keep your head above water.” He breathed deeply in and out before his follow up. “Besides, would it have changed anything?”

With a tilt of her head she wondered. What if Cullen had shared his feelings before Solas returned—or if he ever returned? Would she have given Cullen a chance? Would she allow him to court her? Would she have fallen in love with him? Would they now be opposing Solas in his plans to drop the veil? Would she have agreed to marry him, and begin their family with a Mabari?

“I don’t know.” And that was the truth.

“The light has returned in your eyes, Mara. It was always him… He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?” There was a faint laugh in the undertones.

She smiled, following his change. “I’ll ask him not to. It wouldn’t bode well for the Inquisition to lose its Commander. Hinders the plan to drop the veil peacefully and all.” She paused remembering a moment from years back.   
  


“Do you remember when Varric invited us all to play Wicked Grace? I remember I just came back to Skyhold after some errand. We were all gathered. I think it was the first time we gathered without plotting against Corypheus. We sat around, talking, joking for hours.” A smile formed on her lips as the memories came back. “I think you lost your clothes?” A warm chuckle escaped her lips.

Her warm laughter rushed over him and relaxed him. “I do remember that,” he chuckled to himself. “I had lost all of my clothes, and I had to ask for everyone to look away as I went back to my room after the game.” He shook his head. “I was so embarrassed…but it was the first time we saw you as someone real. Not just as Andraste’s chosen and unattainable. You showed us we were friends.”

“I often miss those days. We were under very different challenges—and perhaps our goal was more attainable then. Or less impossible… I miss Skyhold and our companions.”

“I liked Haven,” He added. “We didn’t spend as much time there, but that was where the Inquisition was formed. And expanded. And gained allies. That’s where the story began.”

She smiled, remembering her first days as a Herald. How young she felt compared to now. Her body had changed since then, lost and maimed. Her heart had grown and broken. “That was the first time I used a trebuchet.”

Cullen let out a sigh as he remembered she risked everything to save the people of Haven to give them one last chance to flee. He remembered finding her several hours later in the snow as she had somehow escaped the rubble of Haven. He remembered being in awe. No flutter—just a newfound appreciation for the Herald. “You’ve led us through the wilderness, and you’ll do it again. I’m honored to serve you Inquisitor. And now…with my own burden dispelled.”

“I’m glad you’re here Commander.” The truth was freed from her as it was for him. She searched his face, finding some sadness within catharsis. Her own body felt exhausted from their exchange. A yawn escaped her mouth.

“You look tired.”

“As do you,” she returned, pausing. “Thank you for telling me.” This was the last time she would bring it up with him. And she did want to thank him for being brave enough to say something so bold. She could not minimize the love he felt.

He searched her face and knew she meant it. But there were no words. Instead he pulled her into one last embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist to hug her. He would never be this close to her again. After this they would begin again and it would be a world in which she would never be his. He felt her squeeze him back, then loosened her hold. Her breathing quieted as she drifted off to sleep.

“Mara?” He whispered, soon realizing she had fallen asleep. “Let’s get you to bed,” he whispered, standing up then lifting her in his arms, his feet leading him to her corridor.

~

As he laid her down in her bed, her hair splaying over her pillows and face peacefully asleep, he laid to rest any dream of being anything more to her.

Over the years he had grown to admire her formidable strength and pure heart. At some point he began to adore her face flushed with freckles, the invisible crown that lay upon her long and beautiful ears. He adored the way she spoke with kindness and integrity, and never wavered in opposition.

She saw the world for what it could be, even as she was the only hope to change it.

She also saw a world in which she would never give another her heart.

And tonight Cullen recognized that fully. While he had fallen in love with her, she could not return to him in the same way.

He brought the comforter up and over her body, tucking her into the covers. The room was quiet other than her gentle breathing.

With a sigh he swept the hair away from her forehead and tucked it behind her beautifully pointed ears.

He had said his piece and knew where she stood.

With a heavy and foolish heart, he outlined her face with his fingertips and whispered, “Goodnight Mara”.

Rather, the goodnight was a goodbye to the life spent in love with her. He bowed his head in silence before standing from his spot at the edge of her bed, straightening his posture before heading to the door.

Solas stood in the doorway in a dark cloak with a curious but unaccusing look. Cullen continued his pace to the door, clearing his throat softly before speaking in a low whisper.

“We ended up talking for some time tonight. She fell asleep and I brought her back to her room.”

“Thank for you bringing her back.” Solas had seen Cullen carry her through the door in his arms as she was fast asleep, her head to his chest and one hand grasping the neckline of his tunic. He had watched him carefully set her down and tuck her in, sitting at the edge of her bed. He had watched him gaze at her wistfully, tucking her hair behind her ear.

He knew they were close, and he assumed his feelings, but he had never asked Mara if anything ever happened between them. It didn’t feel right to ask since she was not accountable for anything that happened during his leave. She could have dated, she could have loved someone. She could have dreamt of another life, and she had every right.

Perhaps it was too simple to assume they could start where they left off, when there are unknown entanglements and histories.

He trusted her and her loyalties. And he trusted she would tell him anything pertinent to now, or if perhaps her feelings had changed.

Solas gave Cullen a nod, stepping out of the doorway for him to leave.

Once Cullen was down the corridor, Solas stepped forward into her room.

A floral scent surprised him, and he found a vase of fresh peonies on her dresser. The same flower he had painted on her to cover her scar. He turned his head from the vase to look at her peacefully in her bed. Her hair was freed from its typical braid and covered much of the pillows.

He stepped forward, climbing into the opposite side of the bed and scooting close to her, laying on his side. He watched her breathe blissfully and admired her.

Bringing his right arm up, he wrapped it around her pulling her close. Under his arm he felt her stir and a sleepy but undeniable smile spread across her face and a rosy hue returned. A happy hum resonated from her and a small chuckle fell from his mouth.

She continued to surprise him with her affections. It still baffled him that it was possible to love someone so damn much, and that she returned his love willfully.

“I’m here Vhenan. Goodnight,” he whispered, nuzzling her forehead and ending in a kiss to her temple.


	22. Waking (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter (written as a transition) with light NSFW. More to come ;)
> 
> Day 2: The Magician  
> #SolavellanTarotArtChallenge2020
> 
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“I love waking to you.” Eyes still closed, Mara laid on her side and smiled as the arm around her tightened in an affectionate hold.

A hot, dewy mouth kissed her neck below her ear. “No bad dreams tonight?” The hand on her roamed, squeezing her bottom as Solas gently nudged his waist against her backside.

The intimacy intoxicated her, until she couldn’t recall the evening before. She stilled. “I don’t remember coming to bed.”

The exhaled breath in her ear was perhaps sharper than he meant. She turned to lie on her back to face him, piecing the memories of the last 24 hours. She watched as he stiffened, and his face warred with feelings. “Cullen carried you to bed after being with him last night.”

Oof. Mara cringed at how bad that sounded. “That sounds considerably worse than the truth, but... I do need to talk to you.” She raised and sat up in the bed. A confession lying down somehow felt smothering.

Where to start?

“I don’t want you to mistake that I don’t want to tell you. This is just...uncomfortable for me to say. And I feel awkward about this.”

Solas watched as her eyes matched her words. Her eyes were always a tell. His features softened some. “What is it, Vhenan?”

She sucked in a breath before she began. “Over the years, Cullen and I have become good friends. In the early years I supported his choice to fight his addiction to Lyrium. And… when I lost my arm, he trained with me so that I would be ready in combat with a handful of different weapons.”

Solas recalled previously watching her dress and prepare for the day, laying out several daggers in addition to her armor and staff.

“We became close. And nothing ever happened between us. I never felt that way for him.” Mara watched as Solas processed her accounts. “I didn’t have the dream again last night, but I did the night before.”

Solas had been there many times when she awoke from the recurring nightmare. He knew it continued to haunt her, and each time he had to hold her and reassure her she was safe. She often awoke in sweat and muffled screams.

“After the first time, I’ve always tried to stop it. Trying to freeze him in magic, deflecting the sword, summoning veilstrike, trying to transport myself elsewhere, trying to harm him first. Nothing ever worked. I don’t know if he negated my magic, but it always ended the same.”

She swallowed and tensed. “I tried something different, to distract him. To convince him not to hurt me.” Her stomach tightened in knots. In rushed words she confessed, “I kissed him.” Mara watched as the corner of Solas’ mouth twitched. “And it worked. But it felt...off. I woke up shortly after.”

Solas knew there was more to her story. It ached waiting for what could be worse. The memory of Cullen affectionately laying her onto her bed suddenly burned in his mind. He was careful, attentive, and wistful. Cullen has stroked her hair, held her face. He had carried her in his arms as she peacefully slept.

He hadn’t considered him much of a threat. Until now.

“When I came back to the hold last night, Cullen was waiting for me. And... I realized I had visited him in a dream. It wasn’t the nightmare. I told him we needed to talk, and later in the evening we did.” Mara tried to read Solas’ distant affect. His brows had started to knit.

His worried look tugged at her heart. “Vhenan,” she whispered with warmth, taking his hands in hers. “Ar lath ma. Please don’t feel weird, believe me, I feel plenty weird for the both of us.” She kissed the painter’s hands. He remained quiet but watched as her lips met his hands.

“I explained my nightmares. And he understood. He felt sorry for me.”

One final deep breath.

“You were right… when we discovered the magic of the pendant he gave me. Last night, he told me how he feels for me. And he learned I do not feel the same.” Mara paused and allowed a space if Solas had questions.

His jaw was tense and his seriousness gave her a chill. This wasn’t a side of Solas she was used to seeing. “Do you hate me?” Her voice was small and timid. She could not meet his cold gaze.

At her crumbled exterior, he folded. His sternness was not meant for her. “My heart,” his voice was gentle as he kissed her forehead just below her hairline. “I could not hate you.” He tilted her chin up gently with his hand. “He’s in love with you.”

Mara blinked and professed, her mauve lips slightly parted. “But I love _you_. Fully and irrevocably.”

Her head titled back at his grasp, a devilish smirk before sinking his lips onto hers. Something about having her, captivating her, being willfully given, beguiled him. In equal measure, and perhaps more so, his soul was enthralled by her unfaultable heart. “Ar lath ma.”

Entangled, his hands searched her body underneath the sheets. A moan ruptured from the back of her mouth as his hands traveled south and delicately encouraged her pleasures to flow forth.

“Solas,” she exhaled, entranced by his hypnotizing touch. “We have to… ooooh. We have meet Cassandra soon.” The words hardly made sense as she spoke them.

“But don’t you want me to finish?” Solas slid down the bed, his mouth trailing from her lips, her jaw, her chest, her naval, and down to where they both desired. She gripped the pillow behind her as his tongue met the precipice of her delight. Attuned to her desires, he allowed his tongue to navigate the depths of her flower, cresting as her breathing quickened with soft moans until nectar flooded his hungry mouth. The Dread Wolf’s eyes flashed dark as he willingly drank her in.

Panting, she sighed as her loins pulsed in residual pleasure. He knew every secret and thrill of her body, and pleased himself in her pleasure.

Solas looked to her, her smile of bliss and brimming affection, eyes closed and content. Today he would take her to his fortress to review and catalog the expanse of his resources. Today would be their first act of their official alliance, in which all of his resources and agents were at her disposal. He trusted her heart and her mind to liberate the elves and restore the magic bestowed to them in millennia past. She was the only person in any realm he would trust with such power. And may her grace be sufficient in revolutionizing the world in which they both longed for.


	23. The Fortress (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fortress of the Dread Wolf is explored.  
> Detailed NSFW.
> 
> Day 3: High Priestess  
> Divine feminine, divine ruler, duality of darkness and light, heightened intuition, travel through realms  
> #SolavellanTarotArtChallenge2020
> 
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Mara showered quickly that morning, rushing to pack for the day’s events. Mara and Solas met Cassandra at the agreed upon tree a mile from the hold, only a few minutes after the arranged time. Their morning tryst had only delayed them momentarily.

“Morning Cassandra.” Mara greeted, the tips of her ears still pink. 

Cassandra gave a silent huff for their tardiness. “How do we get to this… fortress?”

Solas spoke next. “Through an arrangement of Eluvians. There is one not too far from here.”

“And this is an overnight trip?” Cassandra was slightly skeptical for visiting the fortress for an extended period of time, even with a magically bound contract.

“To survey the extent of my resources, yes. And is it too much to offer hospitality, Cassandra? You might be pleasantly surprised.” There was a playful glint in his eyes that Mara noticed.

This was only the second time Cassandra had seen Solas in the past few years, and the first time was when they signed the proposed alliance. Cassandra looked to Mara who evidently have every faith in the Dread Wolf.

“Let’s get on with it, then.” Cassandra retorted, following Solas and Mara as the landscape changed to a hidden Eluvian in dense forestry.

The three trekked quietly through an assortment of Eluvians, until finally stepping out to a structure only fitting of the word _palace_ amidst dense clouds and crisp blue skies. A variety of towers and spires jutted from the structure of the fortress, and astounded them all in a breathless wonder.  
“Maker.” Cassandra whispered.

The fortress and landscape reminded Mara of the Wellspring far below the Deep Roads inhabited by the Sha-Brytol, but even more grand and extraordinary.

Solas led the stroll from the Eluvian, walking along the path glittered in perfectly kept grounds and flowers. Lush and green trees spun in what looked like dazzling crystals. 

Mara and Cassandra followed behind Solas, on the trail of his splendid dark cloak that swept and billowed behind him. Agents bowed and lowered their heads as the Dread Wolf prowled his domain. It was auspicious and surreal to be on his coattails and experience all of _this_.

In a daze, they arrived at the entrance of the fortress, and the doors that must have been 50 feet tall opened at once to their presence.

“Is this…?” Mara stepped forward through the threshold and spun as her heart brimmed in magic and marvel. “Is this what Arlathan looked like?” Her eyes misted as it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

“It is but a glimpse, Vhenan.” He watched as her expression became overwhelmed in feelings.

Somehow, the palace distinctly felt as if she were coming home. The air was thick with magic. It swathed and tantalized her skin, bubbling in an effect that made her feel tipsy.

Vallaslin-free elves approached in ornate garments, bowing their heads upon approaching the three.   
“My lady. Your highness.” A subtle curtsy from the elves. “May we take your bags to your quarters?”

Mara looked to Solas and removed her pack. Cassandra paused then reluctantly removed her pack from her back, handing it over to the elves.

“Thank you, my lady. Your highness. Please enjoy your stay.” The elves bowed again, before turning to put away the luggage.

Cassandra and Mara both looked to Solas in surprise, who had a small smirk within his lips. “Come along, there’s much to see.” He held out his arm, ready to guide her through the agents and resources she would command as she saw fit.

Solas led Cassandra and Mara through only a percentage of the square footage of the fortress over the course of the day, accounting for the breadth of secrets of lost empires in the ostentatious library and the dozens of historians, the sheer tens of thousands of direct and allied agents across the continent, the expanse of magical and fantastic creatures, the armory ready to equip the hands of a hundred thousand or more, the thousands of espionage agents at the fortress alone who had infiltrated every nation and major and minor organization on the continent. Magister, mages, apostates, ex-Templars, Tal-Vashoth. Members of every race and belief united under the hand of an Elven god. In one breath the Dread Wolf could easily defeat the upraised Tevinter and the Qun. Mara would only have to ask, but it would be reckless to abuse the draw of power. It would go against the very nature of her heart. And in this—the duality of her goodness and his power, they could navigate a world to flourish and not its demise.

Cassandra and Mara would have much to retell to their Inner Circle, and Mara already had initial plans to utilize their agreement. After many hours of touring, exploring, questioning, and validating the extent of the resources, Cassandra, Mara, and Solas sat down to a private dinner in a beautiful and ornate private dinner hall. Cassandra had relaxed some, but she was so overwhelmed with the day she was considerably quiet. Mara was quiet too, but the frequent glances to Solas displayed she deeply admired all that Solas had built. All of her efforts felt small in comparison.

~

“Inquisitor, may I speak with you a moment?” Cassandra asked as the table cleared after their desserts.

All three had raised from the table, ready to retire for the evening. “Of course.” Mara agreed, looking to Solas who was already retreating from the private dining quarters.

Cassandra waited a moment after Solas left to begin. “Inquisitor, I do not mean to pry and in most circumstances I would not ask. But our situation is not like most circumstances. Few are offered to wield such power that will dramatically shape the world’s events.”

Mara followed, nodding to Cassandra’s introduction. Her intuition told her where this was heading.

“Accepting this alliance is a huge undertaking decided by each of us. We act in good faith that you trust what you are doing. But for the sake of our alliance and the delicate balance of the powers that be, I must ask if you have considered the well-being and… capacity… of our Commander.”

Mara met Cassandra’s gaze and understood the ask.

“We are not blind. And how quickly he moved against you…” Cassandra shook her head in leftover frustration. “He almost killed you.”

Standing, Mara gripped the top of the chair she had sat through for dinner. 

“That was only a few weeks ago.” Cassandra’s voice softened for her next comment. “Are _you_ okay?”

Mara, however was not expecting the last question. Only Solas knew she relieved the event most nights. Only Solas knew that Cullen’s infatuation drove him to hastily harm her. But maybe they had all seen how Cullen watched her. Leliana had even warned Mara to be careful with Cullen.

“I am better now, thank you.” A small, weak smile. “Cullen and I spoke recently.” Mara cleared her throat. She did not want to gossip, nor did she wish to share his intimacy. “He knows where I stand.” The phrase was drawn out and perhaps the most direct she would be for the sake of his feelings.

Tongue in cheek, Cassandra understood. “And Solas knows this?”

Mara relaxed her hands from the chair’s hold. “Yes. He knows.”

Cassandra nodded, shifting her weight, ready to leave the private dining room and discussion. But not before, “I would hate for something foolish to null the offer, and end with lives lost.”

~

Solas led Mara down a new wing of the fortress, even more elegant and refined than the passages they had already explored. Solas had escorted Cassandra to her quarters, and finally he was alone with his lover, hand in hand.

“They bowed to me?” Mara asked, dispelling the silence in their private stroll to his chambers.

“Mara, in their eyes as well as mine, you are my equal. Your position commands a title worthy of great regard. You as my betrothed are to inherit this empire.”

“What?” Mara stopped walking and she felt her heart pound strongly against her chest.

Solas smiled at her humility, bringing her hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of her hand. “Come Vhenan.”

~

She stood in the center of his bedroom suite, the suite housed in the top floors of a tower. How fitting for a god. In all the grandeur she experienced at the Inquisition, she had never felt so small in the backdrop of heaven. This was ethereal. Unbelievable. Jaw dropping. Who has one hundred foot ceilings and homes made of marble and gold?

Solas. All of this in its glory was his. And it astounded her.

In her wonderment, she was startled when Solas snuck up behind her. Solas had watched her amazement and took off his cloak before approaching her. She, in all this grandeur, was the most exquisite beauty in any realm.

Standing behind her, Solas wrapped his arm around the small of her waist and pulled her closely to him. With his free hand, his fingertips grazed her neck and swept away her hair in his way. Nuzzling his face to her neck, he kissed the lobe of her ear, behind her ear, downward over her neck and to the bare skin of her shoulder. He nibbled her shoulder, frustrated with how little of her skin was available.

Using both hands, he began to untie the laces of her tunic. Her tunic slouched and draped off her shoulder, exposing her right breast. In the cold and the anticipation, goosebumps rose over her skin, and then his hands roamed. His hands cupped her exposed breast, fingertips trailing and teased her nipple as it pointed in arousal. Lowering his head to her neck, he kissed and bit down on her, moving his waist and the hardened length against her. A soft moan escaped her as she felt him against her back.

In a pull of his left hand, he untied the rest of her blouse, exposing the rest of her chest and torso. Hands roamed again, squeezing her breasts sensually, navigating between her chest, her stomach, her waist, and her hips.

Solas ran a hand down and further down, over her clothed nether regions. He pressed into her, swirling, and biting down on her shoulder. She moaned, her loins tightening in ache as he caressed, pulled, teased, bit.

His hands found the lace of her pants, tugging, painfully slow to free her as part of his tease.

“Solas?” She pleaded, wanting him to take her. But they both knew the pleasure was so much sweeter when her arousal flamed, increasing with time and touch. Solas cocked a devilish smirk and his eyes flashed dark.

Solas pulled away the laces, but not entirely, reaching one hand down to her warmth, lightly touching around, externally.

She pouted and waited.  
Still behind her, he moved his hand down her further, and one finger up and into her. Arching her back, she moved her waist against him. Wanting to be touched. Loved. Pleased. He moved his finger up, then sunk further into her. Another moan as he touched her, biting into her shoulder as she became wet.

This fortress was his, and she with it.

“Rest on your knees.” Solas guided her to the expanse of his bed.

~

She gave into her urges and his gestures. His fade-tongue pushed in her, her knees parted laterally, lowering her pelvis to rhythmically push back into him. This felt primal and she depraved. The Wolf encouraged her, devouring her as he swirled his fingers over her folds and clit, lapping up the nectar flowing so willingly.

Moans escaped her without filter. He had awoken a carnal need, and the pleasures created threatened to capsize her. She was on the brink. Every nerve was electrified with his immaculate touch.

Solas raised his head. “You are so wet, Vhenan. Your hunger fuels my own.” He sunk his fingers where his tongue had been. Her nectar spilled down her thighs, and Solas trailed her thighs with his tongue tasting her. He swirled his thumb over her clit, moving his two fingers inside her as she thrusted.

The magic buzzing in his fortress amplified every feeling, touch, taste, and plunge. Her hunger had never felt as strong as it was now, and Solas had _always_ aroused her beyond belief.

“Take me,” she begged, out of breath from the tantalizing frenzy. Her knees shook as she intensely needed him to complete the final movement.

“Turn over,” Solas directed, commanding in a low and primal growl.

Willingly, she followed his directions, turning over onto her back. Solas removed his fingers as she turned, even though her hips continued to writhe. Her moans turned to a begging plead. She was on the cusp of crying for she needed him so badly.

“Solas?” She cried out, a river pouring out of her. Solas switched to lying on his stomach, settling himself between her arched legs.

“Yes Vhenan?” He asked with the smallest smirk, breathing over her loins.

“I need you!” She exclaimed, her body writhing and searching for a rhythm to bind her.

“What do you need?” His voice was low, hot, and patient as he stilled and didn’t touch her.

“I...I need your fingers.” Forming words was unbearable as her body was singularly focused on pleasure.

At this, he swathed two fingers on her inner thigh, picking up her nectar. He lowered his head to his own fingers, bringing his fingers into his mouth. In one long motion, he pulled his fingers from his mouth to lick them clean.

“I need your fingers in me,” She corrected, begging and pleading. Tears welled in her eyes. “And I need your mouth. Your tongue.” One tear fell from her eye. Solas lowered his head, breathing his hot breath over her folds until finally, _finally_ , kissing her delicate flower.

A loud moan rolled out of her and the final words she’d be able to string together. “I need you to lick me until I finish.”

His mouth on her folds, he obliged. “Yes, Vhenan.” He licked the length of her, in, over, and between her folds. Licking up to her clit, he plunged two fingers into her, swirling and following the resounding beat.

He listened to her pleads and moans, pleased as she gave herself to him so willingly. She intoxicated his mind and body. He loved the sweet and floral taste of her.

Solas slipped his free arm under her lower back, pulling her in closer to him as she ground against his hand and mouth.

She was even closer to him and closer to finishing. She started to rise and she closed her eyes, moving her hands to the pillow behind her, gripping tightly as her back arched in anticipation.

Solas recognizing her sequence, he slipped a third finger into her, swirling his fingers in circles up, round and around, and moved his tongue from her folds to her clit repeatedly.

Her breathing unsteady, a soft and high pitched wail escaped, and she thrusted her pelvis into his fingers and tongue until finally, _finally,_ the most spectacular release surged the entirety of her body in tumultuous waves, crashing over, and over, and over.

In that moment, nothing existed except for the love pouring out of her in droves. She couldn’t catch her breath as it coursed and completed her, again and again.

After two minutes her body shook in desperation. It was another minute before she opened her eyes, and when she did feathers circled the air above the bed. One by one she relaxed her shoulders, her torso, her arms, her hands, her pelvis, and her legs.

Her hands were holding shredded pillows, feathers spilling into the air.

Mara lifted her head slightly to view Solas. Still out of breath she tried to speak. “I...that...you”.

A throaty chuckle escaped Solas mouth, admiring his betrothed laying gloriously in his bed. She was glorious. Her body divine. Her heart unfailing. “You look so beautiful.”

She was still breathless, and his admission added to it. “I’m so sorry about your pillows.”

He chuckled again, and climbed forward on the bed, hovering over her. “Not to worry.” He rested his weight on one elbow, and with a free hand swept the hair from her glistening face. “Ar lath ma, Mara. I wish to always make you happy.”

“You do Solas. Ar lath ma ir.” She gazed into his eyes and her heart raced all over again. There was hunger. And desire. And need.

With a small hand movement, he swept mint through and over his mouth, cleansing before leaning down to kiss her, softly at first, then thoroughly, lovingly, wanting.

She spaced her hips, trailing her hand down his chest, his tightened abs, down to the length of his hardened form. She guided him in, hungry for him still.

The length of him filled her walls, and this time a small moan escaped from Solas’ lips. She was dripping in arousal, and wound tightly around him.

“Ohhhhh,” Solas murmured, pushing into her, moving his hips along with hers.

Her hands moved along his shoulders, down his rippling back, squeezing his cheeks.

Her kisses trailed from his mouth, to his pronounced jaw, and down along his neck. She swirled her tongue over a sweet spot just below his jaw, swirling, then nibbling with her teeth, then a tighter bite into his neck.

She felt his length twitch, so she arched her back, grinding into him. “Come.” She whispered, her wet tongue near his ear.

She needn’t tell him twice. He pushed his hips fervently into her, hot pleasure building, bursting, and filling her.

Her chest rolled as his release peaked her own, another astounding wave coursing the entirety of her body. _He felt sooo wonderfully good._ Another cry escaped her, and she was distinctly swept in cool and billowing air. She opened her eyes, panting, wet, body moist in sweat. The feathers in the air surrounded her. Surrounded them.

Her eyes widened as she looked around the room, a few feet above his bed. “We’re…we’re _levitating_?” She had read stories of the ancient Elvhen consumed for years in romantic tristes, floating as they consummated love or lust in the bellows of the sky.

Another low chuckle from the god, and at the sound her loins pulsed. “This is but a taste of the lives we will have, Vhenan. There’s so much I can’t wait to share with you.”

Raising her left hand to his face, her fingertips held his striking jaw line. Air billowed underneath them, descending slowly to the bed. “I want to do everything in life with you.”

She fell in love with him again each new day, with each encounter, spoken promises, and embraces. Her heart brimmed and swelled in everlasting adoration and devotion. Their love was all consuming, and although they were unaware, the acceptance of their love had a pronounced impact on the fate of Thedas.


	24. Herald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Herald of the elves.
> 
> Day 4: Empress  
> Femininity, beauty, abundance, compassion and care, nature  
> #SolavellanTarotArtChallenge2020
> 
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The turquoise and lavender light of dawn broke through the length of the opulent floor-to-ceiling windows facing the east. The renewed daybreak spoke to Mara in delighted whispers, she stirred and removed herself from the silk sheets of the king sized bed. She turned and smiled at the sleeping god, the generous lover who kept giving. His heart, his hands, his agents, his resources. He trusted and gave to her freely—his gifts astounded her.

She walked the small distance quietly to the wardrobe, where the content of her pack had been put away. She felt the golden ornate knobs, pulling and opening to an armoire full of delicate and varied fabrics—much more than she packed for the overnight trip. Mara ran her hands gently over the fabrics—silk blouses, chemises, dresses, robes, fine leggings, and coats. She pulled on the drawers below, the contents full of new and beautiful small clothes and bras.

Mara took a step back to view Solas, still peacefully sleeping, his carved arms outstretched to where he had held her the entire night. The expanse of his rippled back visible as the duvet was tucked low on his waist.

He had purchased and filled his suite with an entire wardrobe for her of the most divine fabrics and cuts. He continued to amaze her, and rightfully or not, she felt small in what she had to offer him.

After a sigh, Mara pulled a pair of leggings, a blouse, and a light jacket from the armoire, and dressed to go for a walk. She figured most would still be asleep, and she was partially right as she made her descent through the fortress. In every corridor, hall, and staircase, his agents stopped and bowed their heads as she passed. So much for an inconspicuous stroll. As Inquisitor, people from all walks treated her differently. Addressing her in titles, curtsies, bows. But here…in his palace in a pocket world, who was she to the Dread Wolf’s agents? Inquisitor Lavellan? The Dread Wolf’s betrothed? Something more? Something else? Through their written and bound alliance, Solas allowed her to use his resources how she saw fit. But to his followers, his empire… was there a word for her post? The weight of it all. The power of it all… was unsettling.

Her feet led her forward through the grounds, the buzzing in her mind coming to a halt when she found herself in a lavish, green, and aromatic garden against the backdrop of the most tremendous waterfall. All her fears were relieved upon arrival. The troubling thoughts of doubt stilled and lifted from her mind. The roaring and descending water, the flowers bewitched her. This spot and this moment called to her, and in some marvelous epiphany… it called her home. A deep breath in and out, filling her, fulfilling her, the woes and doubts ebbing.

Mesmerized and entranced, she was alone and one with the magic of this moment. She didn’t know how long she had been standing there in perfect peace, and somehow was not startled when a calm and loving voice joined her.

“I thought I would find you here. Called to the wilds and the wonder.” The rhythm of Solas’ steps somehow synchronized with the breath and wind of the scenery sweeping through the flowers and branches.

“I breathe and I am renewed.” It made perfect sense in the excellence of the view. Solas stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist while resting his head on her shoulder. “It feels…like I’m coming home.” Something sacred and dwelling within her told her this realm in its glory of magic was home.

“I feel it too, Vhenan. As do the elves who come here.” Solas reached to and held her left hand, swiping his thumb over the ring he had given her. “This is what we’re fighting for.”

Strings of doubt tried to make its way back to her mind, but the peace of the gardens drove them away. “Solas,” Mara turned to face him, and without missing a step brought her left hand up to his mouth for a kiss. “Who am I to your agents? Your followers?” She had asked him a similar question the night before, but the answer wasn’t quiet sufficient.

“To the elves, your status is similar to the human’s praise of the Herald. You instill a hope of justice, resolve, and revolution rooted in compassion. We see you as our best hope of restoring what I had foolishly taken. “

Mara swallowed and braved his gaze and confidence. “That’s a lot to live up to.”

“And we have every means, my heart.” A warm kiss to the height of her cheekbone. “And some time to do this right.”

And in this moment, more so than any other time, she believed him and the impossible dream.


	25. Everlasting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love's first bloom.
> 
> Day 5: The Emperor  
> Ancient wisdom, ruler of the world, resistant to change, role of power, impenetrable vulnerability  
> #SolavellanTarotArtChallenge2020
> 
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He obliged, after the party returned from the Storm Coast. She had asked him for a moment alone—and moments alone he gave sparingly. Any small moment with her could be the moment he gave in to her charm and her heart. Her kind eyes enticed him and begged him to let her in.

Mara initiated the embrace, as usual. She was always the one who stepped forward, reaching out to grasp him in wisps as he always retreated. 

Moving forward, she clutched the collar of his tunic, her fingers trailing down the v neck until settling in a tight grasp, the beige fabric bunched in her fingers. Without hesitation, she placed her lips over his, focusing on his full and warm lower lip. She felt him relax under her grip as he kissed her back fervently. When her mouth opened, his wet tongue swept in, his hunger bidding a war. He sated his hunger only briefly, forcing himself to quell the fire roaring through him at her initiation.

She sensed his demeanor change as his lips became tight and broke away from hers. He couldn’t let himself kiss her for more than a minute, and it frustrated her poor heart. If only he could let her in. She _felt_ desire in his kiss with every return. Why did he always have to pull away?

Solas stepped back from her and shook his head, but his eyes reflected the warring conflict.

“ _Stay.”_ She pleaded as her heart pounded and longed for him. She needed more than a fleeting moment, for what she felt could not fade. Solas watched as her cerulean eyes widened. The grief if he were to deny her was unmistakable. “Please.” She whispered, her voice tightening as though she would cry if he forsake her.

He had not asked for his foci to find her hands, or for him to guide her, or to inevitably follow her. He had not asked to find someone remarkable with depth, wisdom, and kindness he had not seen in centuries. He had not asked to let his guard fall at her whim. 

And now she asked for him, for somehow she saw something in him too.

For as much as he needed to, he couldn’t break her heart now, for she held his heart as well.

Solas returned her touch, reaching one hand to the back of her head, pulling her in as his fingers laced in her hair. His guard dispelled, he kissed her more passionately and without restraint for the first time. One arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her body and her heart close to his. Giving in to her liberated the melancholy of his scarred soul.

Mara sighed, sinking in to his hold, feeling wonderfully safe, freed, and loved. In this moment, she didn’t have to be the Inquisitor deciding the fate of many. She could be a woman, elated and nervous in following her heart with the dashing, dark, and intelligent apostate who captivated her entirely. She moved with him, swaying her body into him and kissing him back fully. Warmth flooded her chest, her face, and her ears. The unspoken love engulfed her.

Still caressing his lips, her hands trailed to his waist, tugging him as she stepped backwards toward her bed. She wanted him and more than a polite kiss whilst standing. She wanted to explore him and the bold desires she held for him.

He followed her lead, realizing the path and obliged her with some reservation. Moving backwards, her bed met the back of her legs. Still tugging him along, she sat down at the edge breaking the kiss. Looking up at him, her breathing was heavy. His eyes searched her, hesitant.

“Kiss me.” Her request was no simple feat. All of his plans unraveled at her petition. But leaving her now would be unbearable.

Leaning down to her and with one arm still around her waist, he lifted her back toward the center of her bed, laying her down flat. Her hair spread on the pillow, and Solas watched her closely as heavy breaths escaped her parted lips, her cheeks rose tinted. She was breathtaking and her longing was palpable. Solas hovered over her on her bed, bringing one hand up to her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. His hand followed the curve of her face down, gently touching her lips. Her heart fluttered at the simple touch.

Laying over her, his pants tightened as the length of him hardened. She intoxicated him and he had to speak.

“ _I want you Mara.”_ Each word of his was drawn out, mirroring the struggle to remain in control. His words lit a new and novel fire in her. Mara watched as a flurry of emotions in his face settled on one singular feeling. She felt it too.

“I want you Solas.” Her heart beat rapidly against her chest and blood pounded in her ears. She was nervous, but unafraid of him. She cleared her throat, needing to say the next part. “I-um… I haven’t…before.”

Solas’ face softened, finding her more endearing. “Your gift is precious, Mara. Only to be given freely.” His loving and patient demeanor made her heart flutter yet again. “The decision is yours, and I will honor and respect your voice.” His hand swept away hair over her eyes.

Three words thrummed loudly in her mind. The three words she whispered whenever he walked away. The three words her lips formed when embraced in his kiss, but never uttered. And his tender gaze lifted the words from her soul. “ _Ar lath ma.”_

The sweetest smile spanned his face as another ancient scar over his heart began to heal. Leaning down, he cupped her lips with his own, kissing her thoroughly with all the tenderness. Lips still pressed against hers, his own confession arose. “ _Ar lath ma, Vhenan_.”

Heart soaring, eyes welled, her hand on his stately jaw drew him in. She wanted to share her love with him. She wanted him to make love to her for the first time.

She moved her body with his while still clothed. Her hips swiveled and met his in a novel yet known rhythm. Oh, how his love fulfilled every need. Every kiss from his lips rocked her. Every touch was a serenade in which she felt cherished and adored.

A sigh escaped Solas’ lips, moving from her mouth, to her cheek, and to her ear. Nuzzling against her ear, sweet words fell from his lips. “You are so beautiful.” He kissed then nibbled her ear lobe. “And your heart.” His lips trailed down her neck. “Your heart is pure. And kind.” He sucked on her neck just under her jaw. “Your mind astounds me. And challenges me.” His lips continued trailing to her clavicle. “You amaze me, Mara.” His voice was low and sultry.

Her skin blazed where his mouth had touched. His newfound candor made her feel intoxicated.

She wanted his mouth to discover and explore every inch of her.

Solas paused, pulling his mouth from her neck to gaze at her. “I care you for, Mara. I will not do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.” He searched her face but it was only adoring. “Promise me you will let me know and I will stop.”

Mara propped herself up on her elbows. In reaction Solas sat up giving her space. She nodded and took his words seriously. “I promise.” She sat up the rest of the way, placing her hand on his chest. “I trust you Solas.”

He took her hand in his, giving her a squeeze.

“Will you help me?” She asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. Scooting off the bed, she stood in front of him, unbuttoning the golden decorations of her royal blue tunic. With her okay, his hands found the bottom hem of her tunic, watching as the tunic draped as the laces were loosened.

His hands skirted under her tunic, feeling the bare and warm skin of her waist and stomach. She watched as he lightly explored her, his face calm but delighted.

When his eyes met hers again, she gave a nod and raised her arms. While still seated, he carefully pulled the tunic over her head and released it.

Mara’s dirty blond fair fell over her bare shoulders. Solas studied her, admiring the sight of her radiant skin, the rounds of her breast, her mauve nipples, the flat of her stomach. And all the little freckles dotted along her skin. She was glorious.

With caution, he brought his hand to her shoulder, tracing his fingertips along her clavicle, pausing, and ever so lightly traced a line between her breasts and down to her navel. “You are exquisite.”

In their first kiss in the Fade, flutterings whispered of her greatness. Only an inkling then, and yet his words rung true. _You change everything_. And since their first kiss, the roar and hunger warred, entranced by her mind and her heart. Someone so remarkably genuine that she made him doubt his course. Her blue eyes brimming in newfound love, a mirror image of his own, who saw him more freely that he dared to see himself. She could be his demise. She could be their savior.

And if anything, in this moment and everlasting, his ancient heart worshiped her.

Careful, measured, he caressed her freed body. Kissing, holding, moving with the sacred rhythms of her yearning. Delighted, surprised, they consumed each other. In the heat. In the love. In the worship. Panting, moaned, their spirits released in perfect union.

By loving her now, his soul would be forever wed to her.


	26. & Without: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if compassion had failed the night of the Dread Wolf's return?
> 
> Trigger Warning: Anxiety, panic
> 
> Day 6: Hierophant  
> Masculine counterpart to High Priestess, balance between the conscious and subconscious minds, well-established beliefs, mentor, wisdom from within, going against convention  
> #SolavellanTarotArtChallenge2020
> 
> [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/Altoclefgirl) | [Insta](https://www.instagram.com/alto.writes/) | [Tumblr](https://altoclefgirl.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AltoWrites) | [Ko-Fi: Buy Altoclefgirl a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/altoclefgirl)

The door closed to her bedchamber. In the privacy the door provided, separating herself from the remaining Inquisition, the will to carry on was bleak. The precipice of collapse was razor thin, and he had done her in.

Charter’s words echoed in cycles in her mind. “ _He was there, Inquisitor. He disguised himself to learn how much we knew about him. He killed the ambassadors before the end, but he spared me._ _I think he was hoping you would have been there_.”

Old wounds, ripe with tears and pain. Old wounds masked in thick scaring. Old wounds underneath that had never closed, reformed, or healed.

She had continued as it was necessary, every moment teetering, awaiting the final capsize.

Perhaps this was it.

Anger flooded the open wounds and tore thick scaring asunder. He bestowed this pain as a curse. A remnant of a lover who did not treat her as his equal. A reminder that she was not enough in his eyes to save the world, or each other.

Hot tears spilled and rolled over her broken spirit. Her body shook in frustration. Her pleas fell on blind eyes. 

Heart rate quickened with her breathing. Hitched. Irregular. Fast. Gasping. Suffocating. Drowning.

Her body was hijacked by panic. With any remaining autonomy, she forced her body across the bedroom to her bathroom. Feebly turning the knobs of the shower, her fine motor faculties diminished, finally hot water fell.

Pulling, tugging, freedom of trapped garments.

Bracing the shower wall with her arm, the panic took its hold and raged a one-sided war. Gripping the wall, there was nothing else to cling to. The only hope was to stop him, for he no longer saw her. Or loved her, if he ever did.

It took every ounce of energy to maintain the smallest semblance of control, and this was the hardest fight. Breathe... 1,2,3...breathe...1,2,3...

20 minutes. It took 20 minutes for the panic to subside and return to the currents of her wounds.

Undecided, he watched her. Her face beet red. Her eyes full, red, exhausted, and wet. He watched as she toweled off, before stepping out of the shower in a robe

A portion of the woman she was, for he was the one responsible for her depletion.

He hadn’t decided what to say, but the anticipation that he might have seen her at the ambassador meeting drove him over the edge. He found himself in her bedchamber with no set agenda, for the war within himself was not over.

“What do you want, Solas?” Misery dripped in her voice. _What more will you take?_ This was the first time they had seen each other since chasing through the Eluvians. Or at least the first time Solas showed himself, for she had sought him in the Fade for years.

Her tone left him jaded and a little more decided. She was angry, and this could help him maintain a divisive stance.

“You know what I seek?” He waited for an opening, to give him a reason to seek a different path.

“...the red lyrium idol.” Mara answered, stiffening her stance to lengthen her height.

While this was a correct answer, this was not the response he could use to justify change.

His brow furrowed before releasing spite. “There are rumors the Inquisitor is sleeping with her Commander.”

Mara’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What?” She shook her head, gaining another reason to stay hardened instead of meeting him with compassion. “Those rumors are false.”

Solas peered, maintaining a distance of at least 10 feet. He was quiet as he watched her, a flurry of emotions changing in his own disposition.

“ _Why_ are you here Solas?” Why come just to antagonize her? He was the one who decided that they were enemies, not her.

He remained silent other than a huff of breath.

Mara took the reins and a step toward him.

“I don’t want to war against you. But you left me. You decided I couldn’t understand. You decided my life wasn’t worth saving. You were too proud to see me for who I am.” Mara paused, her lips trembled as more, fresh tears rolled down her face. “I loved you. And I was never enough.”

Her anger confirmed the necessity to stay away and to continue in his way. It was easier this way. She could too easily sway him if she met with him kindness. Her love could unravel every great plan. It would be too easy to fall into her grace.

The anger partitioned what could, but never be.

“I will leave then”. Solas vanished into darkness, black fabrics of magic pulled and distorted where he was, and then wasn’t.

Mara fell to the ground in her robe, holding her hand over her mouth as she began to sob. His appearance struck her wounds, widening and deepening. His cut corrosive and almost lethal. Was it possible to pass from grief?

Within seconds, a hand was placed on her shoulder as a floppy hat bobbed against her, kneeling.

“Grief widens and swallows whole. Cuts into wounds never healed.”

Cole shifted, wrapping his arms around her to form his first hug. He felt her body tighten, wrapping her lone arm around him, burrowing into his neck.

“You are not alone.” Cole whispered with warmth, ordering the feelings of misery, grief, and heartbreak to release her. “He too rides the boundary. He is within, and without. But his pride rules alone as the world grieves. And yet you are loved.” His voice was the calm in her shipwreck. She tightened her hold on him, the fabric from his shirt bunching in her hand. “Questioning, doubting, grasping. We are who you can cling to. We are the lighthouse.” Cole rubbed her back, soothing and quelling the panic.

After a few minutes, her breathing calmed to a normal rhythm, deep breaths returning her to a safe state. Mara cleared her throat and loosened her grip on her sweet spirit friend. She pulled away some, gazing up to him. “Thank you, Cole. I appreciate your friendship.”

“Your heart is good, Mara. I would hate to see it turned.” Compassion could lead her heart if she let it. Cole foresaw the dangers of an Inquisitor without her gift.

“Will you remind me if I lose my way?”

“Yes.” Cole accepted the task, understanding the grave necessity. He stood, holding out his hands to help her up. Mara accepted, rising from the bathroom floor.

“Will you be okay tonight?”

She sniffed, then nodded. “Thank you again Cole.”

At the whisper of his name, Cole receded into the Fade.

Sucking in a deep breath, she walked back into her bedroom, adjusting and securing the ties of her robe.

Worn and tired, she slumped down at the end of her bed. Staring. Stuck. Frozen.

Minutes passed, and the knocking of her bedchamber door brought her from her numbing state.

“Come in.” She announced, feeble and tired. Past midnight, it was likely an emergency. And a distraction.

Hesitating, Cullen entered searching the mostly dark room, finding her defeated as she slumped at the end of her bed. Her hair was soaked, and bled into her silk robe.

“Inquisitor,” he bowed his head, waiting a few seconds before gazing her fully.

The sadness pouring from her broke his heart.

He stepped forward cautiously, revealing his stature in the moonlight flooding through her balcony doors. “I saw Charter’s report.” His voice was soft, hesitant. “Are you okay?”

Mara stared at the fireplace across from her bed, unmoving. “He was here.” She whispered, emotions dammed, expecting another release.

His heart sunk and he moved forward, closer to her. It angered him the depth of pain he still caused her. “...May I sit with you?”

She finally turned her gaze to him. His golden presence was comforting to her tired eyes and soul. She nodded, watching him carefully and slowly sit to her left.

“What did he want?” Cullen’s voice was kind, patient.

Mara opened her mouth, but it was moments before she spoke. “I don’t think he even knows.” The sentence didn’t make sense, but Solas finding her didn’t make sense. Mara continued. “He asked if I knew what he was searching for... My answer didn’t please him.” For how short his visitation was, it felt like time had frozen indefinitely. “I was angry, and him frustrated. He wouldn’t answer why he was here... and the blame rolled out of me. That he decided our fate. Everyone’s fate.” Mara closed her eyes and she could still see Solas’ face display a variety of emotions vividly.

Cullen allowed her a moment, before whispering her name with love. “Mara.”

The velvety warmth of her name spoken in love brought her out of her head. She opened her eyes, and maybe for the first time, noticed the good and perfect gentleman gazing back at her. His presence granted her peace—something she had lived so long without. Peace in a world in which she assumed impossible.

“May I?” Cullen raised his right arm behind her, inviting her into the strength of his arms.

Eyes locked, Mara nodded and his arm snaked around her shoulders, guiding her close to him. She turned, resting her head and her hand on his chest, and sunk in to him.

He could feel her body relax with each breath. She had held on far too long alone. She didn’t have to be alone or face the world alone. “You’re safe.” The whisper blanketed her in warmth. One more layer of worry was lifted at his touch and words. This feeling was wonderful.

With his right arm still snug around her, he lifted his left hand and began brushing back her damp-wet hair from her face. His touch was light and soothing. Cullen watched her carefully, not wanting to provide unwarranted affection. But the soft smile finally warming her face at his touch said otherwise.

A small whisper escaped her lips, her warm breath warming his chest as she rested against him. “Will you stay with me?”

He had never so much as kissed her, let alone held her before. But he had dreamed as much over the last couple of years. “I’ll stay.” The hand running through her hair now cupped her face, and she turned up to look at him. Her eyes were full with gratitude. “Can I bring you your clothes?”

She looked down, realizing she was still in her robe from showering. How Solas had appeared to her as she had turned off the water.

With a nod, he stood and walked over to her dresser then her bathroom, searching for clothes. He found a neatly folded night set on the counter space, bringing it back to her. After setting it down on her bed, he walked away, turning so that she had her privacy.

She stood, the silk robe slipping from her body. It felt sort of... daring to be in his company and bare. It had been so long since she was intimate with someone and desired by anyone. She shook the thought from her mind, slipping into silk shorts and a camisole. “You can come back.”

While quiet, Cullen noticed something different about her voice. Almost, almost ... alluring?

He turned slowly, controlling his eyes from hungrily taking her in. Of course her sleep clothes were of minimal and silky fabric. He would not allow himself to think of exploring her skin. She needed a friend. She needed to feel safe. He walked slowly to her, still in his garb from the day.

“You can get comfortable,” she encouraged. There was no need for armor in her bed.

She made him nervous. _Maker’s breath_. His fingers began to fidget as he took off his armor. He left his leggings and tunic, still considerably more fabric that she donned.

He watched her scoot back to the center of her bed, patting her left side for him to join her.

Cautiously he walked to the left side of the bed, sliding in carefully, sitting up against her headboard. His body language treated this as a lookout post, protecting and defending. But she wanted his comfort. His safety.

Mara slid closer to him, turning on her left side, returning her head to his chest.

His breath hitched as she returned, waiting before finally resuming his hold, wrapping his right arm around her waist. Her waist and her hips were more pronounced laying down. Her curves snug to his body; he forced himself to quell the fire that her presence evoked. She needed a friend. A protector. And this isn’t how he wanted it to happen.

Her right hand returned to his chest, holding the neckline of his tunic. She held on to him as she released her fears, her worries, her doubts. She was finally released of Solas’ hold. And she was free to sleep, held by another.

~

In a haze she began to stir, arching her back as she stretched and moved her legs. She woke as she fell asleep, curled up on her side, resting her head in the crook of his neck. Both of his arms embraced her, holding her securely, and her legs entangled with his. Her right arm was draped across his chest, and he had a distinct and pleasing musky scent.

Seconds after she moved, she felt him stir under her, tightening his hold on her. He ran his left hand up and down her arm, ending as his hand found hers.

Fingers outstretched, Mara accepted his notion, weaving her fingers in his. Her heart thrummed in her chest as something broke through the scarring, surfacing as something present all along.

She had to read him. She had to know.

Lifting her head from the comfort of his shoulder, she dared to gaze upon him. Fluttering, her heart quickened as she saw his beautiful golden eyes were watching her, too. And met her with considerable kindness.

He was beautiful, a quality she had never inspected in detail. Something about him exuded confidence and sincerity. Small wrinkles had started to form by his eyes, notably from decades of warring and most recently from commanding her forces. She felt a pang of guilt for adding to his aging.

And still... he was remarkably handsome. His hair, his scruff, nor his clothes were ever unkempt.

And his mouth. The scar over the upper left of his lip enticed her, a sudden desire to make him forget whatever brought him the misery.

He watched her as she searched his face. Her eyes were soft, and her expressions flashed from surprise, to awe, to desire. He distinctly watched as her gaze dropped to his mouth.

It was challenging to remain calm, as he held the woman he wanted for years in his arms, and she was looking at him the way he had always yearned.

This amorous side shined a new kind of beautiful, for someone who was always radiant, poised, and kind. She was finally close enough to note the golden flecks in her otherwise blue eyes. Her long, dirty blonde hair flowing, free from her normal braid. Her lips, full and mauve, were slightly parted. He felt her warm breath against his mouth, waiting in the drumroll. He wanted her, but it needed to be her choice.

There would be no going back after succumbing to his charm. She didn’t even know this was what she desired, or that her heart had noticed him and grown soft. She had assumed her heart had broken irrevocably—its capacity to beat for another diminished the day Fen’Harel was pronounced.

But no.

The warrior who taught her to rally again when she had lost her arm, her love, and lost sight of hope…his presence was a beacon. He had saved her in more ways than one, and yet she had never allowed herself to consider the possibilities.

And the possibilities were not just before her, but within reach. The man who so patiently waited for her attention, who had endured torture, who had fought alongside her, who was there when her life had fallen apart. The man who picked up his sword again for her when she asked.

How had she not seen him? How had she been so blind?

Arching her back, she leaned herself forward with every bit of courage, placing her lips flush against his, soft and unassuming. Until.

Until.

Cullen met her kiss with tenderness, with fervor, with intention. In one swift movement, he rolled from his back to his side, lips unbreaking as he met with her unbridled passion, intensity, and affection. One arm still snaked around her waist, one hand rolling into the thick of her hair. 

Her body moved with his, meeting his long overdue embrace swiftly. Lips parted, she relished in the delight of his mouth and his body solidly against her. She gave everything to this moment, swept away in how wonderful he felt, her heart fluttering with each sustained and returned kiss.

Days could have passed as their embrace ignited and encouraged forthcoming love. Minutes passed, lips without ceasing.

She stoked the flames of his desire, but more importantly returned his affections. Entangled in lips, limbs. Nothing could be better than this. He respected her body, only allowing his hands to gently graze her delicate face, her flowing blonde hair, the small of her back, and the curve of her waist. He would not allow the purity of this moment to be tainted by lust, out of his own principle and admiration for her.

She deserved the world. And she deserved for this to be done right.

They turned once more, Cullen guiding her to her back as he hovered over her, leaving space between them except for their lips. Without breaking, he found her hand, lacing their fingers, her arm outstretched to the pillow behind her. 

He slowed, kissing her deeper, their pace synchronized. Alas, their first kiss came to an end and Cullen remained close to her. With eyes open, the pair gazed into each other. Understanding, marveling, soaring, vulnerable. And safe.

Perhaps for the first time, she saw him clearly. The longer she stared in his honeyed eyes, the bigger her heart swelled. Nothing could have masked the smile that formed, or the rosiness to her cheeks. Cullen kissed her once more, and a sigh of pleasure escaped the back of her throat.

“Maker’s breath,” Mara whispered, stealing his coined phrase as it was the only fitting words she could find.

A low chuckle escaped Cullen, along with the widest smile she had ever seen. She felt weak at his genuine grin.

“That was…” He started, but the moment could not be done justice through mere words. 

“Wonderful.” Mara offered, squeezing his hand, breathing heavy.

When they met, they walked from far different paths. Cullen had walked his path alone for years, patiently waiting to catch her attention, committed to serving her and protecting her—with or without her ever knowing the truth.

Wounded and unhealed, she had journeyed between despair and anger. Any stirrings had been muted by her unaddressed anguish.

But now.

Chiseled, carved by fondness. The unknown surfaced and surprised her.

Cullen watched her beautiful face flush in a variety of emotions and realization. With his free hand Cullen cupped her face, lightly stroking her cheek with his thumb. Her rosy hue deepened at his touch.

“I know this is new for you,” He paused, admiring her emanating glow. “I care for you, Mara. I will not rush you.”

His candor broke through any remaining guard. Her eyes widened as more threads of truths surfaced. “It has been years since I have felt safe.” Her bottom lip began to tremble, her throat tightened. “You make me feel safe.”

He was the first face she saw when her world had come to an end. His face and his voice called to her as she was imprisoned in her mind, drowning in anger and sorrow as Solas had left and taken her mark. His golden glow had saved her. He was the very real reason she continued to fight.

She felt as if she had just woken up.

He could have never guessed what it would be like to be in love with her, or the awe of her vulnerability. “I promise to always protect you.” Leaning down, Cullen brushed his soft lips to her forehead. While he would always lend his sword in battle, he sensed that she warred with her own demons.

Mara closed her eyes, accepting the waves of comfort he brought her. Comfort was a foreign feeling in past years. But she had to know if this feeling was real. Lasting.

Mara opened her eyes. “Cullen…” She started, not wanting to minimize or detract from the blushing moment they shared.

“You need time.” He surmised, with a great deal of understanding. His features were still soft and there was kindness to his eyes.

Mara nodded silently, and Cullen recognized the gratitude in her disposition. “Will you kiss me once more before you go?”

“Pleased to,” His response was sultry and Mara could not help the soft moan that escaped her parted lips as he leveled his mouth over hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For review in order of reference:
> 
> Fen'Harel's Return--[Dwell Within Chapter 1: Collapse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/57563947)  
> Cullen's Courage to Knock--[Dwell Within Chapter 5: Dareth Shiral](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/57745120)


	27. & Without: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if compassion had failed the night of the Dread Wolf's return?  
> Part II  
> See end notes for chapters in order of reference.
> 
> Day 7: Lovers  
> Willing vulnerability, open hearts, the choice of love, duality, disharmony  
> #SolavellanTarotArtChallenge2020
> 
> [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/Altoclefgirl) | [Insta](https://www.instagram.com/alto.writes/) | [Tumblr](https://altoclefgirl.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AltoWrites) | [Ko-Fi: Buy Altoclefgirl a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/altoclefgirl)

Three weeks later on the outskirts of the Arlathan forest, Cullen awoke to a haunting scream a few tents down. It was the middle of the night, the campsite otherwise quiet and dark. The fire was down to its last embers. He grabbed his great sword and sprinted toward the tent, the rest of the party beginning to stir as he was already in motion. 

It was her tent.

Cullen quickly unzipped the tent, barrowing through to the sight of her sleeping amidst the dark. His sword drawn, he paused and looked around the tent for the culprit but to no avail. The only shadow was his. 

Mara screamed again, piercing and bone chilling. He rushed to her, kneeling to her. From the little light available, he determined that she was still asleep. 

“Mara?” He called out to her, placing a hand on her shoulder and tried to wake her. “Mara!” he shook her again, hovering over her.

Her eyes flittered open, wide in panic and full of terror. Tears streamed from her eyes from whatever horror she had seen. Her breath was quick and her heart was pounding, and in one fluid motion she grabbed the dagger underneath her and pressed it to Cullen, aiming it directly to his heart, the point of the dagger cutting into his skin.

“Mara,” Cullen spoke calmly but with urgency, trying to center her. He had never overheard her stirring from nightmares. He had never heard her screaming in her sleep. “Mara, you were dreaming. Whatever happened, you’re safe. You’re in your bed at the campsite. I’m here.”

Cullen overheard the footsteps of the rest of the party. Many eyes were peering into her tent, wondering what had happened. Cullen turned his head, without leaving her side, to give orders to check the barriers and scout the campsite.

Cullen turned back to Mara. She looked petrified and hadn’t moved her hand on her dagger. If anything, her body was more rigid.

“Mara,” Cullen whispered warmly, despite the dagger poking into his chest. He brought his hand to her face, brushing aside her hair from her line of vision. Tears continued to stream down her face, the terror in her eyes was still there, but her gaze shifted to look at his hand.

Cullen sat at her right side and set his sword down. He held her face in his hands and looked directly into her scared and beautiful eyes. She met his gaze.

“You’re safe…. I’m here.” He stared into her eyes, waiting for his message to sink in. He repeated his lines a few times with pauses in between. The terror in her eyes slowly dissipated, and eventually she relaxed her death grip on the dagger. Cullen took one hand and set the dagger aside, returning his touch to cover her hand. “You were dreaming.” He stated with gentleness. He waited as the words slowly phased her.

“I was dreaming?” She asked, her voice low and hoarse. Her breaths were still rapid but subsiding.

“You screamed in your sleep, and I ran over here to check on you.” Cullen explained.

“Commander?” One of the party members called from the entrance of her tent. “No sightings, and no tripped barriers.”

“Thank you. Stay on patrol tonight with Gellham. Just in case.” Cullen ordered, turning back to her again.

“Do you remember what happened?” He asked her softly, searching her face.

“I was…you’re bleeding!” She exclaimed, a shouted whisper. There was a cry in her voice.

Cullen looked down at himself. The dagger had cut into him just below his sternum at an angle—an angle that if she would have been successful would have pierced his heart. It was only a cut. Or rather a slice.

“You’re… quick with a dagger.” He explained, pulling back from her a little. Mara was still lying flat on her back.

“Wait, let me help.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him to her. She hovered her right hand over his wound on his chest, closing her eyes as she focused on a healing spell. She opened her eyes and the cut had healed, although the blood still remained.

Cullen looked at her amazed. She had just awoken from a nightmare and was healing him from her self-inflicted wounds. “Thank you,” he muttered. Her kindness was unreal. He cleared his throat. “You were about to tell me what happened.” He spoke quietly.

She nodded, propping herself up on her elbow to sit up. “I was,” she gulped and drew in a deep breath. “I was being dragged through what looked like hell. Something dark had ahold of my feet and dragged me through a rift…It looked like an underground cemetery. I remember clawing the ground trying to escape its grasp, and when I tried to scream I was silent, its hold on me tightening the more I tried to escape.”

Cullen was silent. This might be the time. “Do you mind if I look you over?...Sometimes nightmares can bleed over.”

She nodded, pulling herself to sit up fully. She pulled back her covers with her hand.

He nodded back to her before continuing. She was wearing a sleep tunic and shorts. Her skin glistened with a pearl glaze in the small of the moonlight. He looked at her arm, scanned over her stomach, then inspected her legs. There were no wounds of combat, no bruises from grips.

He returned to her side, wanting to do one more test. “Stay there,” he whispered. At an arm’s length, his brought his left hand up to her face, holding it. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He was searching for something. Something that didn’t belong.

He was searching for possession, afraid that a demon had taken her.

Mara stayed still as instructed, watching him as he put his hand to her face, then searched his face. What was he looking for?

After a moment Cullen opened his eyes. He sighed with some relief, then pulled an antique silver pendant from his pocket and held it in his hand.

“What I was searching for I did not find. I did not sense possession, but I sense that something is lurking.” He stopped, holding up the necklace. “I came across this as my time as a Templar. It is a ward against possession for mages.” His tone was grave and there was genuine worry in his voice. “Will you wear this for me?...My way of protecting you.”

Mara looked at the small pendant necklace. It wasn’t more than an inch in length and there was some sort of inscription, probably its name among Templars. Her gaze left the necklace and up to his concerned face. She nodded.

“Do you mind?” Cullen asked, as he leaned toward her.

Mara nodded again, and he leaned in closing the gap between him, lifting his arms above her head, placing the necklace on her to set the clasp. Their faces were mere inches apart. Her breath was warm on his face and her hair grazed his shoulders. When the clasp was set, he looked into her eyes, trying to read her thoughts.

She had asked for time after their first kiss. And that was three weeks ago. He would wait indefinitely for her, but he could not deny the thrumming temptation to kiss her right here in her tent.

And right then, she wanted him too. She had wanted him all this time, but she had to do right by him through a real conversation.

But right then she was also scared. “Will you stay here?” More and more she wanted to be saved by the Knight.

He could not forsake her, or her vulnerability. “I’ll stay.”

“Thank you,” She faintly whispered, eyeing his mouth before returning to lie back on her roll.

Cullen scouted the range of her tent, wondering his placement, until he saw that her eyes were still on him. Waiting.

Holding her gaze, he sunk to her side at the edge of her bed roll. “I’ll watch over you. You’re safe Mara.”

——

“Cullen.” Mara’s voice carried across the emptying war room, waiting until Cassandra and Leliana were both safe from ear shot before continuing. “Can we talk tonight?”

Despite her best effort of remaining calm at the simple request, her heart began to race. Seconds ago she was delegating the war. And now, she had to take decisive action for her fragile heart.

There was a lilt in her tone as she addressed him. In mere seconds her demeanor had changed, softened. He believed she was ready to have a conversation. He could not help the hope that rose, but it was better to be cautious. “Erm—yes. How does 20:00 sound? And where should I meet you?”

There were very few places in the fort in which they could steal a private moment. And for this she did not want to feel confined. “Yes.” A blushed smile spread across her face. “Care to take a stroll with me at the lake?”

Her smile melted his guard. And now to say anything that didn’t sound foolish. “I can’t wait.”

~

Mara was the first to arrive at the lake east of the hold. She was nervous and fretting over the small things. Earlier in the evening when she opened her closet to survey her clothes, she realized the nicest things she owned were her armor. She didn’t have casual clothes, let alone romantic clothes, fitting of a date. She agonized over her war-fronted wardrobe. It shouldn’t matter, but it did. She suddenly cared about the little things and wanted to show him she was more than a mage and a leader.

Cullen rounded the bend to the view of a lake opening before him, jagged mountains in the backdrop, and the clear view of the kind and brilliant woman who had won his heart. She turned to him as she heard his footsteps. Painted lips, shimmering eyes, she had prepared herself for him. And when she turned to look at him, her heart skipped a beat. 

He donned an attire often saved for meeting dignitaries. A dark navy coat lined in faint gold and golden buttons. A belted, velvet Orlesian tunic filled with the broad expanse of his shoulders. This was her favorite look. Smoldering, refined, devastatingly handsome, and somehow still rugged. Cullen approached her, standing at her side. He looked to the pristine lake and epic backdrop, then to a more breathtaking view. Drawn to her beauty and her heart, he turned to face her.

“Mara, I...” The way she looked at Cullen made him feel that they were the only people in the world, and that this moment was all that mattered. Full, blue eyes of patience, compassion, and a lure that captivated his already stolen heart.

“I admire you. And over the years my respect and my regard for you have only grown. You have navigated every impossible situation with grace, and you have always come out the other side. _You_ have led us to the other side.” As confessions unraveled, he longed to touch her, to hold her. But he still didn’t know where she stood.

Now was the moment for candor and to put everything on the line.

“You have impressed me from the beginning, and as you became our leader, you became my friend. You believed in me and encouraged me to break the hold lyrium had over me. I confessed my vice, but you met me with compassion. Your belief strengthened my own…

Somewhere along the line, I noticed you more. I saw more sides to you--after Corypheus and our meetings with dignitaries--you impressed all who you met, swaying all with your integrity and your goodness.”

Cullen’s voice softened as the next confession was hard to speak to. “And when we trained together, and you rallied...” Cullen took her hand in his, kneading the back of her hand with his thumb. “I fell for you.”

The weeks that followed Fen’Harel’s unveiling were the worst moments in her life. Harder than losing him at the waterfall, and when he walked away after Corypheus’ defeat. She had never felt so low, disjointed, or hopeless.

And yet Cullen saw her and leapt to save her.

“I know you were hurting then, and still might be, but I wish you could see the grace you give and the impact you have on others. Everyone who knows you is better for knowing you. You make the world a better place by being unapologetically you.”

This moment was perfect. His words were perfect. He was perfect.

“I was drowning alone in my mind. I let despair take ahold of me, and I didn’t think I would come back from it.” Mara pushed through her vulnerability and forced herself to brave his gentle gaze. “You saved me, Cullen. And I’m so sorry I was blind.”

Mara squeezed his hand and drew in a breath. “You have given me solid ground to walk upon, a confidante to walk my path unalone. And more importantly... you are someone I care about immensely.”

Cullen believed she had never looked so beautiful as this moment, vulnerable, her skin shining pearl in the moonlight, the gold flecks of her eyes hypnotizing. She was breathtaking, her mauve lips slightly parted.

Tracing the outline of her face, the rose tint of her cheeks brightened. “I adore you.”

Her heart quickened and swelled. “Cullen—“

Met with his lips, a sigh escaped the back of her throat. She had gone a month with only the memory of their first kiss, and his return blew her away and confirmed every feeling.

Sinking, melting, his arms wrapped around the small of her waist and pulled her close, kissing her with more fervor.

His tongue rolled into her mouth, flooring her with something more than mere flutters.

“Cullen.” Mara whispered, her lips still flushed against the fullness of his bottom lip. “I want to be with you.”

The impossible words echoed in his mind. Cullen pulled away from her lips, searching her face for clarity. “You do?”

Any reserve diminished when she returned with a glowing, affectionate smile. “I do.”

Standing on tip toe, hand clasped to the collar of his tunic, she pulled him to her, opening her mouth, and her heart to the love that poured in.

——

They were down to the final Antaam leader, dozens of Antaam lay among the rubble of the old Elvhen library in the Deep Roads.

Rasaan’s eyes widened as she met Mara with her fate. The livid eyes burned in her mind until it all went black.

Blood pooled in her mouth in troves. Coughing, sputtering, blood fell from her bottom lip. Fighting to draw in a breath, her chest seared, ripped, flared. Cries muted as she drowned.

Black in the periphery, her eye sight filtered green. She was no longer in the ancient library in the Deep Roads.

She was dying, or already dead. And ready to be met with Andraste herself.

Perception faltered, and a vague figure rolled through the atmosphere to take her, or to put her out of her misery. She wasn’t certain, but either would have been okay.

Closing her eyes, she gave in without a fight. Every year of her life had been met with more impossible tasks and stakes. If it was all over, then so be it. She did her share to save the world. Someone else could carry the torch.

A deep voice fogged her mind, as if the sound was transmitted from underwater.

_Not like this._

The excruciating pain began to fade, as she faded with it. The pain lessened from her chest, through her back, her lungs, up through her throat, and her mouth.

She was no longer drowning, or this was the millisecond before it all ended.

She waited.

And waited.

Waited for the world to dissolve and her with it.

Heat fluttered her lips, then traversed her mouth, and down through her chest. It wasn’t pain. It was... _peace._

Again she heard the low voice calling.

Calling her name.

She braved opening her eyes to the golden city, ready to discern if this was the place she had dreamed of and others conjectured.

But she was met with love. An embrace. Warmth.

His presence.

Pale and freckled complexion. Stern and sharp beautiful features. The palest blue eyes saving her.

An artist’s hand over her large chest wound.

A god’s lips on hers.

When Rasaan’s great sword struck through Mara’s chest, the Templar pendant she wore shattered. She was no longer shrouded from the Fade, or others who sought her through it.

In the library in the Deep Roads, the veil was remarkably thin for its history and press of magic.

The Dread Wolf instantly felt her as the pendant shattered, and within seconds had found her in the Fade, fading herself from a fatal wound.

He could not allow her to pass. Not like this.

Drifting, drawn to her presence, his hand and magic poured through her wounds in her chest cavity, healing the damage of the sword and the Antaam toxin. A blow that would have been fatal for even the best of mages in Thedas. But the Dread Wolf was no ordinary mage.

To his surprise, his lips found hers. Drawn, inviting, captivated. When she stirred, her lips returned his affection, leaning into his embrace with the small strength she had.

When her eyes sleepily opened, he slowed the kiss in to a finite and thorough resolve.

Her heavy pant dewed on his open palm as he gingerly swiped his thumb laterally over her full and mauve lips. Her head tilted back at his touch, accepting, wanting.

“Our secret, Vhenan.”

The scene went black.

And then, dusted yellow light filled her blurred sight. It was loud, noisy, chaotic as loud rubble scraped against cemented blocks and tools.

Her name was being called, but by a different voice. She opened her eyes more fully, and the scene slowly came into view. She was met with rushed golden locks.

“Mara.” Her name was breathed in urgency and puffed into her ear. She was squished tightly, confused, uncertain.

“Mara.” The same name called to her again, but this time the pressure was released.

Cullen was knelt in front of her, dusty, disheveled, worried. She felt her face cupped in his hand, and one hand wiped her mouth with a cloth.

A way different from the Dread Wolf’s touch of her lips.

“I almost lost you.” His voice was broken and more vulnerable than she had ever seen.

She looked passed him and noticed much of the Inquisition crowded in the damaged library and corridor. So many were watching her with disbelief and worry.

Mara looked back to Cullen, tilting her head.

“You were hurt, my love. Rasaan’s sword pierced you as we took her down.”

Mara looked down at her bloodied chest and then to the bloodied, very large Antaam great sword on the ground near them. She also noticed Rasaan’s corpse on the ground, along with dozens of her Antaam.

“We gave you every healing herb in your pack, and the antivenin given by the Talons.

All of our mages we could fit in here pooled their magic... to save you.”

Cullen’s voice quieted as he lowered his head. “You were still for several minutes.”

Mara coughed, attempting to clear her throat of the dried blood to speak. “Cullen.” She feebly whispered, lifting her hand to hold his.

Cullen leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. He laced their fingers and squeezed her hand. “We’ll get you back to the fort as soon as the rubble is cleared. I’ll leave with you... I’ll take care of you.”

A small but meaningful smile spread on her lips. “Thank you.” She whispered, searching his sad and golden eyes. “I’ll be in good hands.”

“Commander.” A cleared throat approached the pair. Cullen turned his head back to his second in command. “The corridor should be cleared within the hour.”

“Arrange for the Inquisitor and I to leave on the first carriage. Continue excavating the remaining tomes and relics. Remain vigilant for new Antaam who surface.”

“Yes Commander.” The agent bowed, but not without a sad glance toward Mara. It was certainly rare to see the Inquisitor taken down. And it was now apparent to the rest of the Inquisition of the intimacy between the Inquisitor and her Commander.

Within moments, she drifted to sleep. Worn, exhausted, pained. The day flashed to her in brief segments through sleepy eyes.

Carried in the arms of her lover, navigating through rubble and the depths of the Deep Roads.

The reverberating hooves of horses drawing a carriage to their final destination.

Wrapped and swathed in the strongest arms, laid carefully upon her bed and pillows.

“My love.” Mara whispered, her first words since escaping. Her voice was scratchy and tired.

Cullen set down his sword and pack, rushing to her as she woke. He sat at the edge of her bed, facing her in hope.

“You called me my love.” Mara’s whisper continued, her eyes slowly opening. “I like that.” Her voice was gentle and warm despite its weakness.

Cullen returned her comment with a soft smile, running his fingers through her hair. “Duly noted, my love.” He leaned forward to kiss her softly, careful not to harm her.

“You saved me,” she whispered as the soft kiss resolved. He had saved her from the ruins, and it was possible the healing herbs and pooled magic saved her also.

His eyes softened in remorse. “I could have lost you.” Words too proud to spill bubbled in his mouth. “You almost died without knowing.”

He could not go another day without speaking the truth he had held for some time. He met her eyes

“I love you, Mara. You’re my favorite person in the whole world... and you mean everything to me.”

His words were stunning. Mara had only known one kind of love—one that was grand, tantalizing, and tragic. She hadn’t known love rooted in goodness, kindness, and protection.

This relationship and her feelings were distinct. Different, but right in its own merits.

His love was a good love, one that would always put her first. A love that wouldn’t retreat or break. A love that would stand with her, and through anything.

His love was pure. And in a very different way, she had fallen for him too—his bravery, his commitment, his patience, his enduring affections. This love brought her peace, security. Blanketing her own doubts and anxieties.

“Cullen.” She whispered, eyes full and misting. Her heart swelled as she uttered its first truth, unknown even to her until now. “I love you.” Her hand found the collar of his armor and pulled him close, pushing her lips tenderly to his. “You save me in every way.”

A shy smile found him, and he turned red in her confession. “You do?” He hovered close to her mouth, watching her eyes and the beautiful rose hue of her cheeks.

Mara returned his question with a nod, breathing heavy as her pulse quickened.

With him she faced every vulnerability, but her heart was safe in the strength of his hands. Her spirit lifted, embracing the forthcoming love. She loved his lips, and the evoked amorous feelings cascading through her body.

Met with his lips and the flame of young lovers, she dwelled in his enchantment. “I love you Cullen.” She repeated, mouth flushed over his bottom lip. It was liberating to say, and each time she braved the truth, she was flooded in warmth.

A low chuckle escaped his grin. “Feels wonderful to say, doesn’t it?”

Mara laughed out of bashfulness. “And even more wonderful for love to be returned.”

“That it is,” Cullen agreed, caressing and tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her pointed ears. “I love you, Mara.”

He looked down, realizing she was still in the clothes in which she was struck. A long slice cut through the chest of her armor and underclothes.

Mara looked down and read his cues. “Will you help me?” She offered, as her chest was still in considerable pain and assumed it would impact her range of motion with her arms.

Cullen scanned her face and after a pause nodded. Their relationship over the past few months had been chaste. Stolen kisses and private intimacies, but they had not progressed, nor seen each other undressed.

Words of a previous date floated through his mind. _Making love should be shared with someone I love._ He had marveled at her stance, and had even agreed with her. It was refreshing to find someone with similar outlooks on romance.

And now the mere fact of her asking for help made him nervous. Propped up on plush pillows in her bed, her large doe eyes and full parted lips undid him.

“I don’t think I can lift my arms very high.” Her chest had pinched even to lift her hand to his collar to pull him in to her kiss.

“Of course,” He nodded modestly. “How-“

Mara scooted to the edge of the bed, wincing as she stood and placed herself in front of him. Cullen sat at the edge of her bed, and was closer to her height seated.

“Can you help with my armor?” Cullen gazed in her eyes, and followed the line of sight to her shoulders. One hand of each shoulder, he gently slipped her blue battlemage coat down her arms, folding and setting it aside.

He advanced to her glove, holding her wrist with gentleness as he pulled it off her hand.

Everything else would be trickier. Everything else revealed skin he had ached to roam and caress with his hands.

Steadying his gaze, his wrapped an arm around the small of her waist, pulling her close, kissing her cheek, her jaw, the lobe of ear, to the point of her ear. One hand fingered the neckline of her fabric until finding the first of many buttons, undoing her buttons slowly as he kissed, nibbled the sweet spot of her neck.

A soft _oh_ fell from her mouth as his nibbles turned to a bite, an increasingly pleasured suck as the third button of her blouse previewed the escape of her breasts.

His fingertips trailed her midline, almost skirting the mounds of her breasts before proceeding to the two remaining buttons by her naval.

He paused, his breath hot over her moistened neck. “Is this okay?”

Mara swallowed, aroused by such a simple gesture. “Yes.” There was a plea in her tone for more. Maker, it had been so long since she was intimate with someone. Years. Solas had made love to her one last time the night before they left for the Temple of Mythal.

Cullen noted her plea, sucking in a breath to stay measured, controlled, as his lust came to a boil. But it would not win tonight.

Two to go. One to go. The tension of her blouse loosened, while her breasts remained taut in place. Cullen lifted his mouth from her neck, his eyes leading up to her face. “May I?”

He would never proceed without her say so, and again gained her approval with a wistful, blushed nod. Proceeding carefully, he pulled the fabric from her shoulders, then her arms, her blouse loosening until he captured it in his hands, folding her blouse and setting it with her armor. He avoided her gaze and sight, keeping his gaze on her removed blouse.

“Cullen.” Mara whispered, conflicted with his response. “I am yours.” She rested her hand on his chest, curling her fingers in the fabric of his tunic, wanting to see him and feel him. Wanting to be touched and adored.

Cullen did not move, other than a forced exhalation. It could have been the nearly dying, blood loss, exchange of proclaimed love, or merely the hope of intimacy, but she could not quell this longing.

Extracting her hand from him, she thumbed the waist of her leggings, tugging the fabric over the grand curve of her hips, down lower over her pelvis, then down the length of her legs. The last of her garments fell to the floor.

“Cullen...” There was a lilt to her breathy prowess. “Please kiss me.”

Fingers strummed on her clothes until finally pulling her in to the kiss she ordered. One arm snaked around her bare waist, his hand resting on the small of her back. His intention returned with fervor, and noticed the rhythm of her body movements against him just by being kissed. His hand moved, exploring the shape of her hips and down to her thighs. Her skin was incredibly soft, warm, enticing. His hand moved to her stomach, pausing, breaking the kiss. He slowly opened his eyes, and looked to hers, noticing hers lit with a newfound hunger.

He smiled warmly to her, taking her hand before taking in the raw sight of her. Her skin was like porcelain, perfect even in its array of nicks and scars. And the new wound that would make a permanent landscape on her chest, approximately 4 inches in length and just below her sternum. It saddened him to think she would always keep this reminder on her body, of how easy it was to lose her.

“...Is something wrong?” Mara had not expected a glum response, and now wanted to retreat into her own skin.

He hadn’t yet explored the wonders of her body before facing her fresh scar. “No...no!” He sighed and ran the free hand through his hair. “The new scar...”

Mara looked down herself to see it for the first time. The wound had magically closed, sealed gold with pink on the edges as it was still fresh. “Oh.” The gumption and courage fleeted as she was again reminded that she was maimed, lacking.

Shame struck Cullen as he realized he contributed to the perpetuation of the image of her faulted body. “My love!” Cullen exclaimed in a fervent whisper. “You are beautiful...” He brought her hand to his mouth to kiss her wrist. His eyes were finally drawn to her, the lines, curves, movements, shapes, and flush of her skin. The rounded, full symmetry of her breasts blessed in small, mauve nipples. The same color as her lush full lips. She was in remarkable shape, toned with an ample curve of her hips and backside. Her hip bone surprisingly taunted him, and his eyes led him further down to the perfection between her thighs. “Maker.” Cullen cleared his throat, trying to ease the taut and hardened length in his pants.

Her beautiful misty eyes had no idea of the grandeur of her gift. “Mara, you’re breathtaking...Truly.” He was at a loss for adequate words, and hoped his affections would suffice.

He returned his lips to her skin, aligning his kiss along her collar bone from her shoulder to the notch in her neck. He allowed his hands to roam for the first time along her curves in view, grazing, tenderly tugging.

Her woe had been misguided, Cullen now adoring and discovering her once chaste disposition. One hand moved lightly up from her knees, skirting in between her thighs, bypassing and stopping at her pelvic bone. His breath heavied upon his exploration.

Swiftly, Cullen stood to lift and lay her gently upon the center of her bed. Kneeling above her, he began to remove his knee length coat, his belted tunic. Freed, broad muscles of a warrior hovered over her. She suddenly fell small in the grand expanse of his stature. Every muscle carved and chiseled in war and strength. She was infatuated with the sight of him, and without thinking her hand found the waistband of his pants.

Her touch sent a shockwave through his body and pulsed through his length. “Mara.” His breath was heavy and hot. “I want you.” His eyes roamed her bold and perfect body. “But we can’t tonight. Not when you’re in pain and need to heal.”

A reluctant and heavy nod from her followed his confession. But the flames were still lit within her.

“You can’t be in pain for our first time together. I will do right by you. Always.”

“Will you lie with me? Hold me? Feel me?” Her eyes begged for his affections, even if they wouldn’t be making love tonight. “Can I see you?” Her pupils were dilated in lust and he could not deny her plea.

Thumbing his waistband and slipped off his pants, watching as Mara’s eyes widened in hunger. She was only the second woman who had seen him and was taken away with her reaction. He lowered himself to her, lying above her and careful not to press on her chest. Mara bit her lip, feeling the warmth of his skin against her own.

Before she could ask, his mouth met hers, kissing her hungrily, deeply. One hand traveled across her body, discovering, exploring, relishing. His mouth followed in discovery, kissing her in every expanse unknown to him until now. The round of her breasts, down her navel, the jut of her hips, the start of her pelvis, her inner thighs, sweet and wet with want. His mouth watered as he hovered in between her thighs, and he heard her anticipatory sigh as he was so close. But he needed the save the moment for when she could enjoy their love unafraid or harmed.

His hands moved over her thighs, underneath, over, stopping before entry. The scent of her was sweet and floral like nectar. He lowered his head, kissing her softly along the innermost of her thighs. A soft moan escaped her at the presence of his warm mouth. Her heart rate quickened, along with her breathing. A sharp hitch in her breath followed as her chest seared. Cullen abruptly raised himself, crawling to her.

“Mara.” His voice was saddened by her pain. “My love, what can I do to help you?”

She winced as the pain became more evident. “There’s a salve in the bathroom in a glass container. Mixture of elfroot and mint.” 

Cullen swiftly left her bed, rounding the corner to her bathroom, quickly rummaging through bottles, pacing back to her bed with a glass container in hand. He sat down, angled. “Is this the right one?” At her nod, he uncapped the glass container, dipping two fingers into the salve. After a small hesitation, he very gently covered her fresh scar, watching her face for any pain. But there was none. The mixture had a cooling, numbing effect, relieving her of the searing burn for now.

“I will always take care of you, Mara. And want you. That will never go away.”

Mara lifted her eyes from her scar to his golden eyes. “You really want me?” Her voice was small, conflicted in feelings of arousal and inadequacy.

“Yes.” His features softened in a warm smile. “You are the most beautiful woman. And if the way you kiss and the way you move are any indication, an excellent lover.” A bashful tic overcame his smile.

Her own cheeks reddened at his proclamation. Her heart deepened in gratitude as pieces came together. “Cullen, I… I can’t thank you enough. For seeing me. For saving me. For loving me.”

——

Cullen closed the door to Mara’s bedchamber, flabbergasted.  
“How did you pull this off?”  
He followed her into her room, chasing the skirt of her dress as she seemingly glided into the room.  
She had asked many veterans of the Inquisition to the hold to celebrate the Commander’s birthday. It was the first time in many, many years they were under one roof together.  
While a surprise, Cullen knew it wasn’t really for him. The Inquisition almost lost their leader a fortnight ago through an error with an Antaam leader in the Deep Roads. The near miss struck a grave accord for the companions, and each of them knew the coming days were not promised to any of them.  
  
But they had circled the Commander and a frilly, lighted cake in cheer to amuse her.  
  
While they had told the Inner Circle of their relationship, this was the first time all were gathered while they were together. And all witnessed the amorous glances and smiles they shared.  
  
~  
  
“It’s about damn time.” Blackwall gruffly surmised what the rest of the room had been thinking. “We’ve been pulling for you two kids for years.”  
Her own laughter caught her off guard. “What?”  
Leliana interjected with subtle amusement. “There was a betting pool. Paid up or renewed each year.”  
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Cullen exhaled.  
“We all saw how you lit up when the Inquisitor was around. We’re glad to see there is still some… good left in the world.” The sharp yet romantic Cassandra had bought in to their shared love.  
“So... who won?” Mara asked, eying her companions.  
A juvenile cackle echoed throughout the private hall and all heads turned to the other blonde elf in the room.  
“Sera??” Cullen was dumbfounded. She didn’t appear to be a purveyor of love.  
“We’re as surprised as you.” Cassandra’s tight lip meant she was disappointed in herself for not guessing right and winning.  
  
“She hurts less with him.” Another voice joined in the room in a flash. A floppy hat bobbed against Mara’s shoulders. She turned to look Cole in the eyes, not happy with his proclamation of a very private matter.  
Mara pulled Cole into a hug. “I’m glad you made it.” And to curtly change the subject. “There’s cake and wine. Help yourself.”  
  
~  
  
And she was the most beautiful gift of them all, donning a fitted dress that stoked all of his desires. This was the first time she wore a dress for him, a sight he had forgotten was so boldly alluring.  
“Dorian sends his regard for not being able to join us tonight.” Mara stepped back in the direction of her bed. “But he sent forth a gift ahead of time.”  
Cullen cocked his head, following her path. “Where’s the gift?”  
A devilish smile spread of her lips. “Still needs to be unwrapped.”  
His brows furrowed, wanting to make sure he read her signs correctly.  
“The card is on the dresser if you wish to read it.”  
Cullen paused, walking to the dresser and skimming through the card, reddening towards the end. When he looked up, he found the satin dress on the floor, and Mara’s body tightly fitted in a light gold Chantilly lace body suit. It was opulent, and fitting of Dorian’s taste.  
“He’s rooting for us too.” Mara remarked, watching as Cullen stepped forward, his eyes taking her in.  
“Mara...” his voice was low, admiring the give and take of her curves in the teddy, and the deep neckline showcasing her scar. “Are you sure?... Aren’t you still healing?”  
“All healed. I was even able to field train the past couple of days.”  
“...it doesn’t hurt?”  
“Never better.” There was a seductive glow to her eyes. She wanted him. She needed him. And she was ready to give herself to him fully.  
“I love you Cullen.” The glow emanated in her smile. She closed the gap between them, lifting to press her lips to his ear. “Happy Birthday.”  
  
Her hot breath sent warm waves down him, tightening the length in his pants. She was young and somehow had fallen for him too. She carried the weight of the world on her shoulders with grace and vibrancy, but aging another year reminded him of his own shortcomings and the now eleven years between them. Today was his 39th birthday.  
  
Mara sensed his hesitation, kissing his neck and trailing her hands down to his waistline. She paused, feeling the hardened length in her hand. “Please make love to me.”  
  
Cullen pulled back to look at her fully. She was radiant, provocative, stunning. “I love you, Mara.” Cullen cupped her face delicately. “I’ve... only been with one woman, and it was many years ago.” Cullen cleared his throat before continuing. “I’m hoping you’ll be my last.”  
  
He knew her story, and knew there was also only one. And her only was a elven god.  
  
“I want the same, my love.” She brought a hand to his chest. “You taught me to love again by holding my heart so safely in your hands.” Raised on tip toe, she pressed her lips against his. “You’re the dream I never knew I had.”  
  
Her eloquent professions left him breathless.  
Unraveled, unwound, he took her hands and led her to the bed.

He gave into the love flowing forth so freely, returning her love in continuous waves, pleasing her humbly with the gifts the Maker gave him. He cherished her. He adored her. Her body delectably served before him fueled an ignited and eternal hunger.  
She was the pinnacle. She was perfection. She was every hope, and the last.  
The love of his life. And she had possessed his heart fully.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For review in order of reference:
> 
> The Campsite--[Dwell Within Chapter 7: Possess Her Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/57864124)  
> The Magic of the Pendant-- [Dwell Within Chapter 8: In Circles (NSFW)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/57864124)  
> The Demise in The Deep Roads--[Dwell Within Chapter 10: The Writers' Troupe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/58002484)


	28. & Without: Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if compassion had failed the night of the Dread Wolf's return?  
> Part III  
> See end notes for chapters in order of reference.
> 
> Day 8: The Chariot  
> Focused action, opposing forces, commitment to goals, test of strength/conviction  
> #SolavellanTarotArtChallenge2020
> 
> [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/Altoclefgirl) | [Insta](https://www.instagram.com/alto.writes/) | [Tumblr](https://altoclefgirl.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AltoWrites) | [Ko-Fi: Buy Altoclefgirl a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/altoclefgirl)

Cold and mid morning, Smoke drifted lazily from the remnants of the Rutherford home. No longer lit in flames, the residual embers met the still and frozen air, under turned by Mara’s wary feet.  
  
There was nothing. Wooden beams turned to ash, the siding crumbled, cracked, and discarded. There were no distinguishable possessions...Everything had parished... and perhaps everyone.  
  
Mara stifled a cry, her mouth opened and guard fallen.  
  
“If you’re looking to loot, there’s nothing left.”  
Mara and Leliana both turned as a silent bystander had watched the two approach the remains of the home.  
  


His voice and features were rough, weathered. A worn man of at least his mid 40’s, overshadowing a pre-teen boy who stood just behind.  
  
There was a kindness to his eyes behind his calloused look. She’d recognized those features anywhere. “Branson?” Mara asked gently. She had only met their sisters, but there was a distinct Rutherford look in his tired features. She watched as Branson stiffened, untrusting of the two women who stood before their fallen family home. “I’m Inquisitor Lavellan. And this is my colleague Leliana.”  
  
His eyes softened some as he looked to Mara, her pointed ears, her Vallaslin free face, the staff strapped to her back. Branson looked back to his son, then to Mara. A heavy sigh left him. “Will my boy be safe if we talk?”  
  
“Yes.” Mara and Leliana answered in unison.  
Branson turned to his son, whispered he’ll be back shortly, then turned and started walking west. Mara followed him, stopping about 100 feet away from his son and Leliana.  
  
“I’m guessing you have something to do with all of this.” His tone was hurt, jaded, but his voice carried quietly.  
Mara remained silent but looked to him with compassion. His grief fluttered through the air.  
“Last night when I came home, the house was engulfed in flames. The house had to have been burning for hours...” His eyes turned to the ground.  
Mara waited for the answers that would break her.  
“They were home.” Branson looked back up to Mara, whose eyes were full and misty. “The fire took them.”  
  
Death had followed Mara over the years. Thousands passed, out of war, bravery, justice, innocence, or victimization. And now, two more souls died in her name. Fast tears rolled down her face, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle her cry.  
  
“Who did this?” Scorned, vindicated. He had to know.  
Drawing a breath, she answered softly. “Enemies. They’re targeting our families.” Another sniff as she challenged to take a breath. “We’ve traveled for days to get to you.”  
“They took my family!” Branson shouted his words, cutting into the guilt that Mara already held. He wanted to be mad at her. He wanted someone for whom he could channel his anger.  
And she allowed it. If she could carry this burden and relieve him, she would always choose this. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
He could see her guilt, and he could see what his siblings saw in her. He shook his head, pacing in spot for a minute before speaking.  
“I remember they wouldn’t shut up about you when Cullen brought you home. It was all I heard for months... Inquisitor this, Inquisitor that... I had always been weary of his choice to join you. But how my family loved you...” Branson teetered in emotions of blame. “They’re gone because of your cause.”  
  
Another blow that she would take for his sake. “I love your family... And I love him.” He was the only person she had confessed this to. “We can take you and your son to our fort. I will take you to Cullen and we will protect you.”  
  
Her eyes were genuine, but he could not trust their safety. He was torn by finding his brother finally got the girl. The woman his sisters loved after spending one day with her. “Inquisitor—we can’t be a part of this.” He recalled the pub stories of enemies always finding their forts and holds. How the enemy capsized Haven. “We’ll disappear. But before you go... I believe he needs this.” Branson reached into the pocket of his worn leather jacket, pulling out something gold. “The only heirloom that survived. It was our mother’s.” Palm up, he offered their family ring. “Make sure he gets this.”  
  
Humbled and broken, she opened her hand to the receive the golden band. “I promise.” She felt the ring through her fingers, then slipped it into an inside pocket of her armor. She closed her eyes tightly as she regained some composure. “Please know my offer to you and your son will never expire.” She wiped away some of the tears with the back of her hand and whispered “please be safe.”  
  
He nodded gravely, stepping back. “Take care of him, Inquisitor.”

____

“If we survive all of this—if we survive today...will you retreat with me to the mountainside, spend our days with each other, rescuing dogs, herding Halla, raising children? And grow old with me?” Cullen paused, drawing his family’s ring from his velvet pocket. “Will you marry me?”

A resounding truth had her guess this would be their last sunrise, but she had to grant him his hope. It was all he had left. And he was the last good thing in this world.

Mara fought tears as her throat tightened, nodding to accept the token of a life that may not ever come to light. But if she could have him happy for the remaining light of Thedas, it was worth it. Hanging both arms around his neck, she pulled him into a tight hug, burrowing her head in his chest. “I love you so much.”

With one hand, he lifted her head with the light touch of his fingertips, kissing her in celebration and melancholy. In his mind the odds were better, but they would likely wake to a different world tomorrow.

“May I?” He whispered, barely parted from her lips. His right hand found her left, and guided his mother’s ring on her golden-sheen hand, the ring that she had recovered when his family home had been destroyed by enemies, after his sisters had been slain by the enemies. She fought to bring him anything remaining from his home. Because she was the best hope for this world. And she was all of his world.

~

“Do you trust me?”

There was one last play, one final move before game over. Cullen would not like what he was about to see, but it was the last ploy to stop him.

Cullen nodded gravely. “Maker be with you, my love.”

Mara steadied herself with a long breath, giving him one last look before proceeding, walking up the stairs of her former bedroom, winding the staircase in silence. Her former lover was positioned on the balcony, facing the mountains with his arms tight on the railing.

“This was always my favorite view in Skyhold.” He could feel her presence without the slightest sound of her careful steps. Whispers of the Fade, spirits pressed so tightly against the Veil, whispered of her coming. She stopped, several feet from the doors to the balcony.

She was silent for a minute before responding. “It’s breathtaking.” Her voice was no more than a whisper, cautious.

He turned coolly away from the mountains, strolling proudly, decided. “I think my exact phrasing was exquisite.”

The same word he used to describe her as he undressed her for the first time in this very bedroom, so many years ago. Even still he loved her, but his pride had not allowed him to be in love with her, as an equal partner.

Perhaps this could be saved.

“I never thanked you for saving me.” Chipping away his guard was her only option. “I would have died in the Deep Roads. You found me. And saved me.” She allowed the gratitude to ring in her voice. She stepped forward. “Solas... thank you.”

He was worn, weathered, but his presence and allure were undeniable. She found herself drawn to him. Perhaps it would make the next part more convincing.

Solas skirted around her thanks, waiting for her gimmick of last hope.

“Solas,” she took one more step forward, standing in the doorway of the balcony. She didn’t even need to fake the strong flutter or quickened heart rate just being near him gave her.

Solas noticed her ears and cheeks become tinted in rose, her trademark indicator when she felt amorous.

The tell was endearing. Another crack to his guard.

Her throat tightened as the confession spilled. “I miss you. And I wish we could have walked this path together.”

And more secrets. There was no point in concealment if this is all that stood between them and the end of their world.

“I made decisions to prepare for a world in which the Veil dropped. I made decisions to try and help you drop the veil. I made decisions to try and navigate a world in which magic was restored to the elves.

I did all of this for you.

Without you.

Hoping you would see before it was too late.”

The cry she had stifled for years broke, spilling down her face and quivering lip.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

Her confession, her cry, her love made him step forward and close the gap between them. He lifted her head, fingertips under her chin, his other hand wiping the spilt tears.

Her eyes widened at his gentle touch, full, blue, and trusting. She did still love him. Even after everything.

“Kiss me.” Her plea was pure, and without hesitation continued their kiss from the Fade, when he had saved her months ago.

Melting in to his touch, she sunk in to him—their love, their memories, the expanse of time of her knowing him. From prisoner, to Herald, Inquisitor, and lover. Pouring love into their embrace, their story unfolded in snapshots.

Of the ancient magic she learned of through their Deep Roads excavation, she came across legilimency, and the art of sharing and perceiving thoughts, emotions, memories, or even distorting truth with the mind.

But all of this was the truth, rooted in the depths of her longing.

Scenes blurred and faded into one another.

How he held her hand to close her first rift with the anchor. Surprised her with his wit and enthusiasm for knowledge. Charmed her in to the first flutters of her heart, even before their first kiss. Heart raced when she sighted him, cheeks reddened when he sought her. Thankful that he led the Inquisition to their safety to his castle. Hoped and longed to spend more time with him, throwing caution to the wind as her heart grew quite fond.

Their first exchange of love, and each remarkable union thereafter. Irrevocably captivated. Bound to him, even after his leave. Even in anger, or frustration, or panic, or anxiety.

Threads unwound, rooted in everlasting love for him. She could not escape the hold of his love.

She had found the gifts strategically left for her—the Elvhen armor and her new arm, and the tomes of ancient Elvhen magic. He had surmised she would have a particular affinity as a legilimens, and he was not wrong.

She allowed him to feel everything she felt in their relationship, and how she harbored very real feelings for him to this day.

She shared conversations over the war table, with advisors, with Keepers of dozens of Dalish clans, with ambassadors of several cities’ alienages. She scoured Thedas for ways to peacefully drop the veil, but had still fallen short. She carried a torch for him, despite her mask of anger.

As the kiss resolved, Mara kept her lips pressed against his. “I wish I could have done everything in life with you.” Her eyes tightened shut as the dagger in her right palm pierced through his back and into the wolf’s heart. Tears flooded her vision, hearing Solas gasp as he was struck, blood pooling into his mouth.

“Ir abelas ma vhenan.” The words were broken as the act stifled her voice. Mara felt Solas grip her tightly as he fell to his knees.

She sunk and knelt with him, forcing her eyes open to see what had become of him.

There was so much pain in his eyes, but not quite betrayal. It was as if he understood. Gazing into his hurt grey-blue eyes, she heard a distinct crack and felt heat lick her chest.

Looking down, Solas had crushed the red lyrium idol in his hands, forcing the idol to her now burning chest, seeping, searing, intoxicating her body with an ultra potent and lethal dose of red lyrium. He was taking her down with him. With that, their fates were sealed.

When she went to sleep the night before, held in the arms of her Commander, she accepted that it was the last time she would fall asleep before the final and eternal sleep. She accepted she would die today, but was uncertain of how it would play out.

She would die with one last shot to save the world.

Check mate.

The light in Solas’ eyes faded, his body slumping to the floor of the balcony, face up, for one last favorite view.

Shouting rounded the staircase, Cullen barreling into the bedroom as it had been several minutes since Mara left to convince Solas and it was all but too quiet.

Relief was short lived in Cullen’s understanding, finding the Dread Wolf defeated and lying on the balcony. His gaze shifted to Mara who was solemn, quiet, and covered in red lyrium. There was a unique stench...and as Cullen walked closer to her knelt posture, he realized the red lyrium was eating her armor, and burning her skin.

“You have to leave Cullen.” Mara’s voice was broken, but she remained steadied in what must be done.

“I have to get you out of here! To a healer. We can stop this.”

Mara held up a hand to stop him from getting closer. “It’s fatal.” Mara swallowed, fighting hot tears and what she must order him to do. “I will stay and hold off the Veil from dropping for as long as I can. That should allow you time to get out of here.” Mara sniffed, trying to breathe in as the red lyrium spread to her lungs. “It’s the only chance to save you, so that you can live out the life you deserve.”

Even through her tears, Cullen saw that this was a fate she had already accepted. Before this moment. Probably before today. Probably for months. “The life I want is one with you in it.”

Mara shook her head, stifling the pain as red lyrium ate through her body. “The only way for you to have a life is for you to allow me to do this for you. I need to do this for you.” Hands trembling, Mara felt the ring Cullen had given her only earlier that day.

“My gift to you, Mara. It is yours.” He watched her fight through insurmountable pain. Her eyes were always a giveaway.

“Then let my gift to you be your life.” Mara gasped as organs were corroded. Blood filled her mouth. “I love you so much, Cullen.”

Cullen knelt before her, wishing that he could hold her one last time.

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me...” The sky crackled with orange, horizontal lightning, the sky rumbling in ominous magical thunder. “I love you, Mara—“

Summoning all remaining strength and magic, Mara transported Cullen somewhere very far away from the start of the end of the world. Somewhere that if Maker willing, he would have a life to start over.

One final exhale.

Mara collapsed and fell to the floor of the balcony, watching as the fiery sky lit the world into darkness.

Laid to rest, pillowy soft grass cradled her head, her eyes squinting to the purvey of green cast light.

Solas laid to her left, still, cold. Until.

“You love him.” His voice was barely even a whisper.

“I do.” Gravity or death pushed into her, but she had to tell him before everything was over.

“But I never stopped loving you.”

Solas’ face turned minutely toward her direction, his artist hand outstretched to her.

Mara’s hand inched over the grass and space between them, this feat the most impossible task. She found his hand, lacing this fingers and giving a tight squeeze.

“Are you afraid?” His voice had weakened considerably and was shaking.

“Yes.” The last of her tears rolled down her face, her lip trembling for the unknown.

The green sky cracked fiercely and began to fall. The contents of the Fade withering, disintegrating. Elements of her body pulled with it as her body lit with green flames.

“Darir ghilas Din’an”. His head turned and locked to the right, his whole world the last thing in sight. “Ar lath ma-“

In his last and remaining act of magic, he rid her of the pain of passing, her body burning, decaying, ceasing along with the world. And with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For review in order of reference:  
>    
> Sister Laudine's Interrogation--[Dwell Within Chapter 18: Fallen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/58953346)  
> The Rescue--[Dwell Within Chapter 19: Betrayal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/60106255)  
> *Imperfect* Elvhen Translation  
>  _Darir ghilas Din’an_  
>  Literal: We follow a path to death's end.  
> Semantic: I will follow you into the dark.


	29. Here and Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: Strength  
> Passion, optimism, driving force, drama  
> #SolavellanTarotArtChallenge2020
> 
> [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/Altoclefgirl) | [Insta](https://www.instagram.com/alto.writes/) | [Tumblr](https://altoclefgirl.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AltoWrites) | [Ko-Fi: Buy Altoclefgirl a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/altoclefgirl)

It felt the same. His feet soft and padding up the familiar stone steps. The uniforms were the same, but the sheer numbers of forces were astounding. Greeted, saluted, but he made no answer as he quickened the pace into the hold. A brisk walk through the great hall turned into jog, then a sprint as he rounded three staircases to the corridor.

A door he had walked through hundreds of times. A door that he had fretted before once upon a time, and a door that at one point was always welcome for his stay. 

This door of darkened oak was all that stood before what could be. With only the smallest hesitation, he breathed in deeply and then quietly swung open the door. He could have collapsed, the fair and golden lover curled on the drawing couch with a journal at hand. Lip bitten, she appeared to be searching for words, or lost in a memory. In either matter, whimsy donned her rose cheeks as she stole a moment for herself and her thoughts.

A heavy, exasperated sigh was released from him, and his feet led him home.

Mara turned at the sound of the footsteps, pulling herself from the sweetened thoughts. She stood from the drawing couch to welcome him from his return from Ferelden. “You’re back.” A honeyed tone that revealed his return meant something more. He had decided to stay. Her heart pounded a little nervously as he returned to her in confidence. 

The journal in her hand dropped and clambered to the marble floor as he glided in, sweeping her into a familiar hold of lovers, one arm wrapped around the small of her waist to lift her, one hand’s fingers sinking up into the braid of the base of her neck.

The motion too quick and perfect to respond, in some surprise he showcased a renewed love, sinking his soul into the depths of her. Upper lip flushed against hers, his bottom lip rounded and cupped below hers. This kiss paled to the one he gave her as he bravely whispered his love just a few weeks ago. Paled to the accidental kiss she initiated in their dreams. This was a kiss only fitting of a homecoming of the utmost and enamored lovers. And this grandeur left her weak. As he lowered Mara to the ground, her knees buckled and a quick reflex pulled her in tighter to his broad and strengthened stature.

Her lips twitched as she fought a smile, breathless. “What are you doing?” She whispered in between quiet pants. The affection lifted something small that dwelled unknown to her spirit.

After his confession, he asked for a short leave to help his family settle into a new home. And be away and sort through the revelation that the Inquisitor had not returned his love.

Unfazed, he continued, moving his hand to affectionately graze her porcelain face doused in red. “How did you survive?”

“Cullen...” Mara stilled, brows knitted as she looked into his weathered face. She searched his golden eyes that weighed equally in grief and amazement. His question did not make sense. His actions did not make sense as he had walked away with love unrequited. 

Her cheeks reddened further as his eyes longed and missed the bride who would not have been. The woman who died with his mother’s ring.

Mara watched as his face tensed, eyes shut tight as a low and reverberating sob broke his strong exterior. His stature sunk, to the floor, kneeling and wrecked from this impossible miracle. Mara knelt with him, her eyes widening in fear of whatever had shaken the Commander to his core. What had he seen? What had he lived through from his travels in Ferelden? Were more hurt? What did he assume she survived from?

“You’re safe Cullen.” Mara breathed into his ear and tightened the hold of her arms around his neck. Cullen sobbed into her shoulder, gripping her tightly as he was unable to speak. “I’m here. You’re safe.” Words and sentiment he had shared once to her as she awoke from a vivid nightmare at a campsite. His words had washed over her and comforted her as she calibrated to the reality that she was well and safe with him in her tent.

His shoulders and chest shook against her smaller frame. Mara readjusted her arms, slowly and deeply stroking his back to help calm his nerves. She had never seen him so distraught, nor cry or weep.

Mara began breathing deeply, hoping to guide him back to a place where he felt safe. “I’m right here Cullen. I’m with you.” Slowly his erratic breathing returned to a normal rhythm. He lifted his wet eyes from her shoulder, burying his face in her thick braided hair, breathing her in. Her signature light floral scent assured him she was real.

He had watched her dying from the red Lyrium idol. He watched her sacrifice herself to stop Solas and in her last moments she magically transported him to a home she had prepared for them in the mountains. He had lived alone in a cabin constructed on a mountainside for a month before the world burned red.

And when the world was finally swallowed whole in the destructive magic, he found himself pulled, stretched, and thrown into a world that hadn’t collapsed.

“Cullen...” Mara’s voice was soft in worry. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Her questions were ignored as his hands moved to feel her back, her waist, and finally settling tenderly on her face. He pressed his forehead to hers, looking down. “You were dying.” A careful, gentle hand parted the hair from her eyes. “Maker, I’m never letting you go.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach, an unsettling and jarring feeling emanating from his morose words. Heart thrumming loudly, her body tensed as something was gravely wrong.

“Cullen.” She spoke softly, carefully and turned with the sound of the old servant’s door opening.

Footsteps tapped on the marble floor as the old servant’s door was opened, Solas gliding through to witness an embrace. The segments of only a brief few seconds were disjointed in Mara’s eyes. The Commander swiftly standing and barreling forward in a shout. The crack and resulting thump against the floor as Cullen seethed from striking his warrior’s hand across Solas’ face, Solas falling to the floor in ignited fury.

“You took her down with you!”

“Wait!” Mara called out, rushing to place herself between the two to prevent further action. She laid her hand on Cullen’s chest, urging him to stop, and looked from Cullen to Solas. “Solas, you can’t hurt him… Something’s… _something’s_ _wrong_.” Mara mouthed the last two words as Cullen stood behind her, swaying in anger as his feet shuffled.

The hard lines of Solas’ jaw tensed and Mara wondered if it would snap in wrath. Solas lifted the back of his hand to his face, feeling and confirming the blood raised from the punch. “Give me a reason not to petrify him now.”

“Because I forbid it.” Her answer was quick, and sharper than she intended.

Solas watched her, huffed, and then began to stand. Mara turned back to Cullen, her hand still against his chest to urge him from a second round. There was so much pain in the Commander’s face. _Hurt_. And the more Mara looked... _grief_. Something didn’t add up, but this something was very real. “I need to talk with Solas. Can you give us a moment?”

The worry of losing her again flooded Cullen’s eyes. Cullen grabbed her firmly at her wrist, looking from Mara and back to her murderer. Mara read the undercurrents of worry.

“You’re safe here. _We’re_ safe here. I promise.” She gave a small but weak smile, drawing Cullen’s seething eyes from Solas to herself. Cullen’s eyes softened when he looked down at her, brimming in a golden glow as he focused only on her.

“I’ll be back shortly.” She whispered, steady but cautious, then gently tugged her hand away from his grasp. She stepped back, then nodded for Solas to join her in the hallway. Solas followed, but not without a gritted sneer at the all too lucky Golden Boy.  
  


Mara closed the door, spelling their steps with enchantment to mute their conversation in the empty corridor. She paced, pulling her hair from her braid and shook her hair until it fell evenly. “Something happened when he was in Ferelden. Have there been reports of anything? Cities overthrown? Ambushes?”

Another low huff. Solas raised his hand to heal the cut to his cheek bone and lip. The Commander’s hands were larger than they appeared and had impacted much of his face. The _crack_ was in fact a fracture to his mandible. “Nothing the past few days. And nothing from where his family resettled.” The spite resounded, but his face and bones were healed.

Mara ran her hands through her hair, from the crown to the base of her neck. She stepped forward toward Solas, who was carefully avoiding her yes. “I’m sorry he hit you. And…my stepping forward wasn’t meant to take sides. While your face could have bruised from the hit…I’m afraid anything you’re capable of couldn’t be undone.”

A huff and then a smirk spread on Solas’ lips. She knew how to finesse his bruised ego.

“Something frightens him. Cullen was crying for several minutes.” Solas finally held her gaze, a little in disbelief until he noticed the wetness seeped into the cloth of her shoulder. “He asked how I survived… and I think he blames you for… whatever happened.” Cullen’s words of 'y _ou took her down with you'_ rung in her mind.

Solas crossed his arms, cocking his head. Her Commander really knew how to rub him the wrong way. “Of course I’m the big bad wolf to him. Don’t you think it’s time to consider his replacement? I dare to think of Cassandra committing the same mistakes he’s made in the past year. Cassandra wouldn’t have made a snap judgment and try to kill you. She wouldn’t have gotten involved with a traitor who sold your secrets. Cassandra wouldn’t have boldly tried to lure a woman otherwise committed.”

Mara cleared her throat, looking down to her feet then back up to Solas. “You’ve thought about this a lot?” Mara had herself considered Cullen’s wellbeing, as well as the rest of the Inner Circle. “After he and I spoke a few weeks ago, I believed we were moving forward. And when he took leave to help his family move, I believed it was time away he needed for resolve.” She didn’t want to think less of a man who dedicated the most recent chapter of his life to her cause.

“Will you give me some time to speak with him? To gather more information on what he witnessed? And then we can talk this evening?” She felt strongly in allowing the benefit of the doubt.

Solas produced a silent, solemn nod.

“Thank you, Vhenan.” Mara raised herself to kiss the cheekbone that had been afflicted and was now free from blemishes. “Ar lath ma.” She pressed her lips softly to his warm cheek, pausing before stepping back to the door.

Solas watched as her eyes gleamed as she addressed him affectionately. He nodded again, his anger unraveled. “I’ll see you tonight…. Be careful, Mara.”

“Will do.” One nod before she turned and closed the bedroom door behind her. A long exhale as her eyes darted across the room, searching for the Commander. He was no longer knelt on the floor, but instead sat anxiously on her couch, fingertips tapping on his thigh. The journal she had so carelessly dropped was now placed on the table before him. He stood as soon as she entered and began making his way to her.

“My love, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Mara tried her best to instill kindness and understanding. “I’m fine. I just told him we would speak later.”

“I don’t understand… Why are you not afraid of him? Is he tranquil now?”

Cullen’s questions darted through her mind in a sequence she did not understand. “—Erm, no.” Mara shook her head. There was an ever widening current of confusion between Cullen and Mara. No matter how awkward she felt, what he believed was very real for him. She chose patience and kindness. “Will you sit with me?...and tell me what happened?” She held out her hand to him as a sign of trust. “Come.”

Nothing about this made sense, but to find her again and to hold her hand… he thanked the Maker for bringing him to her. Cullen took her gloved hand and followed her to the drawing couch, easing himself down after her.

Cullen eyed her curiously, watching as the now freed hair framed her face and blanketed her shoulders. He always loved her hair down and unfettered.  
“Can you tell me more about what happened?” Her question was soft and paced, drawing Cullen away from his fixed gaze and swirling thoughts. “You asked how I survived…what did I survive?”

Her face wise in years suddenly looked naive for the first time. She was again the prisoner being questioned for her involvement at the Conclave and the mysterious green magic pulsing from her left hand.

“You don’t know?”  
  
“Tell me.” She gently urged, and watched as his hand fretted and sought to touch her. “You’re safe here, Cullen.” A gentle smile to try to calm his worries.  
  
Arm outreached, he traced the outline of her face. His eyes started to mist again as he let out a long, heavy breath. “I’ve missed you so much.” He cupped her face in his strong and calloused hands. “It was unbearable to live without you. You were gone.” The last sentence was whispered. His grief was palpable to her empathetic heart. He had somehow aged in his short leave to Ferelden, new and deep wrinkles in the squint of his eyes. Newly peppered grey among his short beard. And his eyes told her he had come back from some lost, great war.  
Her throat tightened in a plea to cry at his vulnerability, but she mustn’t. Not when he was the one afraid.  
“I’m here.” She whispered back, unsure of how to comfort him. “And I’m listening.”  
  
The love of his life was alive and safe poised within his hands. No burns from the very red Lyrium that had taken her life.  
  
“You died. At Skyhold.” He could still hear her plea that he had to go. That she had to save him. “We followed Fen’Harel to Skyhold. He had evaded or outplayed all of our attempts to stop him. You asked me to trust you as it was our last hope to stop him from dropping the veil.” Cullen paused, the air stilling.

“After some time, I came to check on you. You took him down. You daggered Fen’Harel and he lay cold on the balcony of your own room. But you were knelt, and covered in the red lyrium spilt from the idol...” Cullen closed his eyes. “I tried to convince you to leave with me, to take you to a healer. But the red lyrium ate through your armor...and burned your body. You forced me to go.

You transported me to a home you had prepared for us, in the mountains far away from Skyhold. Just before the veil dropped…”  
  
Mara’s mouth opened in a silent and bewildered gasp as her eyes danced in the many thoughts buzzing through her mind

“You said to me, _let my gift be your life_.”

Mara had no words, numb and dazed to the insurmountable story he had told.

Why would she kill Solas to stop him from dropping the veil if she knew his soul is what anchored the veil? The veil hadn’t dropped, so why did Cullen think it had? And what was this about a home for them, _together_? Had he been thrown into a rift to visit another time? Had he been possessed?  
  
Cullen watched her face as she mulled through his story. Beautiful, perplexed, ruminating.  
“I don’t understand.”  
“What is it, my love?”  
There it was again, the endearment. The affection. The kiss he had given her as if she were his whole world. How long could she listen before refuting what wasn’t true?

Mara looked down and saw gold gleam from his left hand.  
“You’re married?”  
  
Cullen cleared his throat. “This is the ring you left for me.” The ring she left for him at their cabin, paired with a love letter. “We were engaged before you passed.”  
  
Mara reached for his left hand, running her thumb over the ring. It vibrated in warm, familiar magic. And upon further investigation, upon closing her eyes to sense the signature of the magic, she realized it was distinctly hers.  
Time travel couldn’t be ruled out, as she herself walked through a rift to a world overcome with red Lyrium. Where her companions were imprisoned, and she and Dorian led their escape.  
  


Perhaps it was possible, but to fall for Cullen and kill Solas, for whom she was engaged to now?  
“What year was this?” She asked, grasping for any justification.  
Cullen answered with the current year. Okay, so she would have had to fall out with Solas and become engaged to Cullen in less than a year. That didn’t sound like her.  
“And the date?”  
Cullen gave the date of a month ago when the veil dropped.  
“And when did you come...here?”  
Today’s date.  
This was impossible.  
“Cullen...that’s today. And the Veil hasn’t fallen.” She was cautious in her demeanor, not wanting to dismiss him.  
She didn’t mean for her words to rattle him, but they did. “It was real, Mara. Losing you was real. Thedas lit with fire until the world ended in death.” He shook his head, sighing as he dared to touch her face. “ _Our love_. My love for you is real.”  
“I believe you.” She whispered, her eyes full and brimming with compassion, even still she did not understand. And this time, she initiated affection, wrapping her arms up and around his neck, resting her head in his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Cullen. I can’t imagine.” And she couldn’t imagine breaking his heart now.  
  
She felt his arms snake around the small of her waist. For him, the whole world had ended. And she was the first, kind face he thought he’d never see again.  
  
“It’s been impossible without you. Even in the home you left, the dress, the letter, the ring. None of it compares to having you back.”  
Mara struggled to breathe in a long steady breath, but her breathing hitched in the sullen aftermath of his world. A soft cry cracked the strength she had held on to, and she immediately covered her mouth to quell the heartbreak. He did not need her to be sad for him.

“Mara.” His voice was gentle as he pulled his view from her hair to her face. “You don’t need to hide from me. I’ve been alone in this grief, but it doesn’t need to be that way anymore.”

A slow, hot tear rolled from her eyes and down her cheek. She steadied a low breath of air to halt the cry. “We have a lot to figure out.” The statement was left ambiguous on purpose. If all of this were true, what was his role in the world? Were there now two Cullens? Why had the other world ended today? Had they never allied with Solas? Had Solas been their enemy? How did she allow herself to fall in love? How was it possible to love someone else, and enough to plan a life together?

How had Cullen made it to the here and now?  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** The Homecoming Kiss **   
> 


	30. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new morning and world for Golden Boy.
> 
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She was, unequivocally, the love of his life. And in this moment of her sheer radiance, his hope for her solidified. A dream he was afraid to dwell on, but there would be no retreating from this prismatic truth. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.  
  
“Cullen, before you go, I...” Mara’s cheeks flushed red in vulnerability. While he had stayed with her throughout the night before, this was their first night of intimacies.  
Enamored by his warmth, patience, and strength, she was vulnerable and winded to his charm. “I want you to know that...your stay is always welcome.” It could have been too bold to unearth this truth, but the peace he brought her was worth preserving. She bunched and brought up the duvet to cover her bared soul. The golden morning cast a warm haze over the porcelain lover.  
  
“Mara,” While he had dressed to part for his first meeting of the day, he sat back down at the edge of her bed, bringing her into an affectionate hold. “I am deeply in love with you. And I love falling asleep next to you, and holding you...and a newfound favorite of making love to you.” He watched as the rose in her cheeks and ears darkened, but her eyes reflected a hope. “I’m here as long as you’ll have me.”  
  
His love awakened something far beyond her understanding, but she knew enough to know this love was everything. Her lips found his perfect and scarred mouth, somehow healing her in return. “I love you,” she breathed, caught in the magic of his humility. She lifted, arching her back as the duvet slid down to a bare and enamored Inquisitor.  
  
  


_____

  
  
Cullen awoke to her words echoed in his mind. _Your stay is always welcome_. A promise made to him so many months ago in the same bedroom after a night of exploration and mapping every inch of her body. Her love, the sweetest gift on his 39th birthday.  
  
The room was still darkened in a midnight blue. He turned, watching as her body stirred in the bed above him. She was fast asleep on her left side, her right arm hanging off the bed in her slumber.  
It had been so long since he had slept by her side, but he could never forget the sounds of her stirrings and breathing as she peacefully slept. If only he could be next to her, to hold her, to move with her, to sleep in tandem and enveloped in each other’s arms.  
But things were different. _This place_ was different. She hadn’t died. The world hadn’t ended.  
He didn’t understand how it was possible to be alive and somewhere else. Wherever this else was.  
  
He sighed, watching as her hand curled in the air. Her beautiful long fingers that had beckoned him, enticed him, and held his heart so wonderfully. In the haze of his fatigue, Cullen raised his right hand to her fallen hand, softly rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. After a few seconds he felt her fingers curl around his hand, securing his hand in hers.  
At her touch, Cullen closed his eyes, falling back asleep to the warmth of memories of her.  
  
~  
  
The golden sunlight peered through the glass doors to the balcony, warming the room and the bed. Mara stirred, arching her back in a stretch. Sleepily her eyes opened to the glow of daylight, struggling to recall recent events. She was tired and sore, and her body felt stiff as if she had only slept in one position the entire night.  
She felt an enduring _touch_. Mara squinted, following the line of sight of her right arm dangling from the bed to the Commander fast asleep on the floor next to her bed. His hand securely held hers in their slumber.  
Her breathing silently quickened as last night’s memories flooded her.  
  
Solas had agreed to keep the presence of this Cullen under wraps until more information was gathered, but had blatantly protested against Mara as his keeper—and Cullen’s stay in her room so no one saw him and confused him for the missing Cullen from the here and now.  
  
~  
  
“You’re suggesting he stay with you? Someone who we know nothing about, that could be dangerous... someone who believes you’re engaged to?”  
  
“You’ve confirmed he isn’t possessed and I doubt he would have turned. Right now I’m who he trusts, and if anything he says is true...” Mara sighed as her shoulders dropped. “I feel responsible for him. I’ll keep an eye on him, and if need be protect myself.”  
  
Sometimes Solas and Mara did not see eye not eye, but this was unfathomable for Solas.  
  
“What would you recommend then? That he stay with you? We’d have two or more casualties in the morning. We can’t risk anyone seeing him or questioning him. He can’t return to his duties or command.” Mara watched Solas closely as this issue divided their stance, as he remained quiet in his refusal.

She started again, this time more gently to not provoke further antagonism. “This will be temporary, and tomorrow we’ll have more answers. I’ll have a cot brought in to the seating area, and you can spell my bed in protections if it eases your mind.”  
  
~  
  
Mara swallowed, wondering how to slip her hand from his clasp. Cullen had moved from the cot to her bedside in the night as she slumbered. She felt on alert but not yet alarmed.  
She opened her eyes further, watching as he slept. This Cullen was weathered, and looked tired even in his peaceful sleep. New wrinkles lined his face, among peppering of grey in his beard.  
If his account is the truth, then he lived through great horrors and doomsday. This tugged at her heart, and intuitively she squeezed his hand in comfort. Against all logic, she felt called to protect him.  
  
Cullen stirred on his back at her touch, sleepily opening his eyes with a warm smile. “Mara.” His voice was scratchy, but there was such honeyed warmth radiating from him that humbled her still.

  
Mara took a few breaths before responding. “Was the cot not comfortable?” She peered down below, unraveling from the duvet.

  
Cullen swallowed before answering, watching as her golden tendrils wildly framed her face. “I’m used to sleeping next to you.”  
  
Mara’s heart sunk at his reason. If it were all real, then the woman he loved and was engaged to died in front of him. And she was just a reminder of his lost lover. “Would you like to go for a walk before breakfast?”  
  
Cullen nodded, feeling the heat in their joined hands. “I’d love to.”  
  
Mara smiled in reply, then moved to depart from the bed, her hand slipping from his fingers. Her feet landed on the floor below his makeshift bed. “I had some clothes brought up for you. They’re on the dresser.” Mara walked over to her armoire, taking out an assortment of clothes, then rounded the corner to the bathroom to change.  
  
Cullen watched Mara glide through the bedroom in a silk pajama set. His breath hitched at her sight, how graceful her movements as a goddess who just awoke.  
He sighed, standing from his makeshift bed as the sight of her disappeared around the corner. He walked over to the stack of clothes on the dresser, the clothes so neatly folded. A thermal Henley, pants, small clothes, a belt and socks, a coat, and a pair of boots. All in his size, and all looked fairly new.  
  
He began changing and heard soft footsteps return as he started pulling on his thermal.  
  
“I—erm,” Mara cleared her throat, turning away from his sight. “I should have waited longer, or announced I was back.”  
  
Cullen pulled the thermal down over his chest then abdomen. “It’s fine, Mara.” He watched her and noticed that even as she was turned away, the tips of her ears reddened. “I just need to put on my coat, then we can head out.”  
He watched her nod then pause before turning.  
  
Her eyes had lingered longer than she should allow, almost too stunned by his carved physique to notice that there was no longer a scar over his chest from the accident in the Deep Roads.  
  
“Um, I will need to shroud you with magic until we’re far enough away from the hold. We can take this corridor to exit.” Mara walked toward the old servant’s door, the one Solas had walked out of the day before. “Is that okay?”  
  
Cullen nodded, stepping forward to her and the door and answered with, “I trust you.”  
  
Her eyes briefly widened at his sincerity and she gave a small smile. “Stay close to me so I don’t lose you, Commander.”  
  
Within a second, the sight of him dematerialized just as a soft and warm hand rested on her shoulder. Mara breathed in, opening the door to lead to their escape.  
  
Cullen stayed close, his touch never far, and the further they distanced themselves from the hold and Inquisition forces, the further his hand trailed from her shoulder, her forearm, and down to skirting her wrist and hand.

  
Upon their arrival, Mara turned to face him. Blue magic danced in sparks along his silhouette, visible only to the caster.  
Mara waved her fingers, and the time-lorn Commander came in view beside her at a calm, pristine lake glowing with the morning sun. It was a little cold, her breath vaporizing as she breathed him in.  
  
“One of the few quiet places to escape to.” Mara started, looking a little nervously from him to the lake.  
  
“I remember.” This was the same place she had taken him to discuss what they mean to each other. It was where she confessed she wanted to be with him.  
  
Mara turned to him, unsure of what he meant. “You’ve been to this hold before?”  
  
“This lake too.” He answered.  
  
Mara chewed on her lip, unsure of how to begin. She started a path along the shoreline. “Did you sleep okay? How are you feeling?”  
  
Cullen smiled at her caring nature, following her. “I’m okay. I’m not sure how it happened, but I thank the Maker He brought me to you.”  
  
This charming nature did not give her heart rest. She felt stunted in her words as her pace stopped. “I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m glad you’re here.” A shy smile towards him before returning to her post as Inquisitor. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have questions. As I’m sure you do, too. I want to understand so that we can help you.”  
  
“I’ll answer what I can, Mara.” His words slowed as he said her name, emphasized with delicacy and care as if he were addressing a lover and not his leader.  
  
Mara resumed her pace north along the lake shore. “You said you came through a rift yesterday. Had you been through other rifts before?” Was it possible that Cullen—instead of his trip to Ferelden—found himself in an alternate world and just made his way back?  
  
“Yesterday was the only rift, bringing me from our home to just a few miles outside of this hold. I walked backed not knowing if the hold would still be standing, or if the Inquisition would be here. Or you.”  
  
_Our home_. The words echoed in Mara’s mind. But more importantly, he only recalled one time rift. Mara paused before speaking.  
  
“Are you saying that, to the best of your understanding, you lived separately elsewhere? Only traveling once?”  
  
“This world, where we’re here now, hasn’t been engulfed in flames and red lyrium. You said the veil hasn’t fallen, and yet the dates are the same.” Cullen sighed, wanting to help her understand. “I’ve only traveled once.”  
  
Mara knew little of time travel, even though she and Dorian had survived a time rift of one year into the future. She knew even less about other worlds occurring alongside theirs. Can that happen?  
The pain of the world she and Dorian visited were very real, as well as the suffering and sacrifice of her companions. But that time came after, and was dependent on one decision.  
What if another world existed because of separate choices? And what were those choices?  
  
“You’ve been quiet for a while, Mara.” Cullen spoke, looking to her as she gazed to the lake.  
  
“I’m sorry. I’m... processing and wondering.” She turned her gaze to him, watching as the warm, vaporized breath escaped his scarred mouth. “I’m remembering when Dorian and I went through the rift, one year in the future.”  
  
“I remember your report on that. Incredibly detailed for how bizarre it was.”  
  
“I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me for that.” Mara’s expression was puzzled, until it dawned on her that this Cullen had experienced that event too.  
  
“I would never, Mara.” Cullen stepped closer to her, bringing a hand to tuck back a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “A leader must be an excellent communicator and highly observant. These are qualities I admire about you.” Cullen watched as her cheeks became tinted in a rosy hue.  
  
Sheepishly she met his golden gaze, softened in his enamored glow. Mara took a breath to steady herself. “You said we’re engaged. How long have we been together?”  
  
“Coming up on a year.” His thumb caressed the height of her cheekbone, reddening her face and ears. Mara swallowed, unsure of how to proceed. How do you tell someone you’re not lovers—and actually engaged to their enemy? It was heartbreaking when Cullen realized a few weeks ago that she did not return his feelings.  
And now someone who had been actively in love with her—or another her?  
  
Cullen watched as her brows knitted, despite her best effort. “What is it Mara?”  
  
Her eyes widened, full and not prepared to break his heart. She couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him the dream of a life with her died with his fiancée.  
  
Cullen knew this look, a look that meant she couldn’t bear to tell some awful truth. He searched her face and beautiful eyes, full and blue of feelings.  
  
“We’re not engaged,” Cullen surmised, watching her eyes mist.  
  
Her throat tightened and she could only produce a soft and broken, “no”. Her hands found the trappings of his coat. If only she could share what he means to her. It couldn’t be enough, as she did not love him in the same way.  
  
Even with her gesture, the _no_ made him feel she was only a ghost escaping his grasp, like fog receding in heat. Intangible. Unattainable.  
  
Why would he survive only to return to a lover that wasn’t his?  
  
“Are we together?” Cullen's eyes dropped, unable to meet her gaze. Her eyes were always a tell.  
  
Mara was quiet, breathing in to search for an answer that would hurt less. No answer would provide mercy. Her hands found the lapel of his coat and she steadied herself. His burden of a capsized world was one scar too many. And the truth would only add to his grief. “We’re close.” Mara inhaled, clarifying. “ _Quite_ close.”  
A tremble formed in her mouth, and the smallest whisper escaped. “But no.”  
  
Cullen stepped back, releasing himself from her. Broken, distraught. Yet she was the one responsible.  
  
He turned, walking a few paces away from her. Mara waited and gave him time, but not without her own heart breaking. She watched as his shoulders dropped, defeated. A cold wind swept across the shoreline, billowing the tail of his coat as he himself was frozen. After a moment Mara spoke quietly. “I’m so sorry, Cullen. You mean so much to me.”  
  
Her cheek dampened in the silence of his wait. There was a quiet within her that beckoned her to step forward.  
  
“I’m here for you. However I can help.”  
  
It was another minute before he spoke. His stature, once tall, fell in defeat.  
“I never got to kiss her goodbye.”  
  
Mara stepped forward, laying a hand gently on the shoulder of his turned back. “Cullen.” She beckoned, his body slowly turning to her kindness.  
“Then kiss me now.” She was deep in a moral grey quandary, but he deserved to heal. He deserved to say goodbye. Thrown into a world where his lover did not recognize him as her own.  
In front of the lake where another her confessed she wanted to be with him. Another her that fell deeply in love with the Commander, and guessed that somehow her magic brought him here. To this here and now.  
To love someone that deeply... it was too grand to not be real.  
  
Cullen searched her face, hurt and torn himself. And yet she looked like the woman he had given his whole heart to, and planned to follow for the rest of his days. She was breathtaking, and her full, mauve lips had invited him to love her—even if just for the moment.  
  
In one fluid movement, Cullen wrapped an arm around the small of her waist, pulling her to close to him.  
His hand swept into her long cascading hair, and at the touch her lips were lifted to his.  
She couldn’t rationalize why, but she allowed him to take her, to devour her, to make her weak in a forbidden kiss. He had kissed her before, but the brush of his scarred mouth against her now provoked whispers she shouldn’t be feeling. She allowed this, all the while remaining still, until alas at his release Mara’s lips moved forward. But he was gone. The love that overtook her had ended, and strangely had the fog that confused her heart.  
  
“Thank you for that.” Cullen whispered, looking down to the perfect and foreign woman in his arms. He sighed, processing the truth. “I know now you’re not her.”  
  
Mara unraveled the hands that had sought him in the embrace.  
Clarity finally prevailed.  
  
“Part of me believes you’re here to warn us. To be wary of what doesn’t work. The plots of enemies we can’t foresee. Detrimental truths unknown to us. If something bigger than we’ve all experienced is coming, you being here could save us.”  
  
Cullen looked down to Mara who had unmistakably returned to her role as Inquisitor. “Perhaps that is it.”  
  
  
Mara inhaled deeply. “The Cullen from here was due back yesterday from Ferelden, when you arrived. We are still waiting for him. I’ve called a meeting with the Inner Circle tonight to review recent events. I’d like for you to be there.”  
  
Cullen raised a brow. “If there are two of me here, what does that mean for me?”  
  
“If that’s the case...then your life would be yours, as promised.” His Mara's last words were _let my gift be your life_. “You’ve already served the Inquisition to its end. You could retire. Be anywhere. Do anything.”  
  
He couldn’t imagine being away from her or living a life without her in it if there was any hope his love could be returned. “We’ll have to see.”  
  
Mara turned, starting a path south to the hold, spelling him into invisibility. A heavy hand formed on her shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for keeping you waiting on the next chapter! I've struggled with how Mara and Cullen's conversation play out, but I have the next several chapters drafted.


	31. A Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Summit of the Inner Circle to discuss the returned Commander.
> 
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“A summit so soon, Inquisitor? Does that mean we’ll finally lay out the plan of our alliance with Solas?” Leliana removed her coat and set it on an antique brass hook against the oak walls of the war room. She had removed herself from the mission to trace an erratic Mortalitasi cell upon urgent word from Mara.

Mara inhaled, steadying herself for the seriousness of the matters at hand. “That…and more.”

Cassandra squinted after setting down a mug of chamomile tea. Cassandra had accompanied Mara to Solas’ fortress to take stock of his assets. “There’s more? To review the extent of the new resources under our influence will take a considerable amount of time, in and of itself.”

Leliana studied Mara, her posture and her pretense. Leliana’s head cocked, recalling an order to discretely locate their Commander. “Has he not returned?”

Cassandra stiffened, also turning to Mara. The air stilled and thickened as they waited for her to speak.

“We will be joined momentarily.” Mara exhaled, unable to take her chair at the head of the table and join those seated. “Something has happened… and the details of this event are of the utmost discretion. It cannot leave this room tonight, and it may be something we never share with anyone.”

Cassandra adjusted in her seat as Leliana’s face hardened awaiting the truth. Their minds were abuzz with dire scenarios. It had only been two months since Leliana and Mara tracked the double-agent, resulting in Sister Laudine’s death and the displacement of several families of the Inquisition. Cullen was due to return last night from helping his family settle into a new home in Ferelden, safe and away from their comfort in South Reach. Had Sister Laudine conspired with their Commander? Was this the news that could never be repeated?

Or had he foolishly struck his final blow in his intensive pursuit of the Inquisitor’s heart?  
  
“Last night the Commander returned to the hold.” Mara swallowed, certain that whatever she was about to say would sound incoherent.

“The Commander who returned…isn’t from here. He has experienced things that haven’t happened, as if he has lived in another world. The Commander walked out of a rift and found himself a few miles from this hold and made his way back.” Mara gazed to Cassandra, then Leliana. “But it wasn’t the past or the future. He returned to us from the present.”  
  


“You’re not making any sense right now, Inquisitor.” Cassandra shook her head.

Leliana was quiet for a moment before responding. “Are you saying like the rift you and Dorian experienced?”

Cassandra looked to Leliana, recalling the incident in the early years of the Inquisition where the world decayed in red lyrium. “But it wasn’t one year into the future?”

“No. And… he didn’t travel to that world only to be brought back here. He lived there… until that world _ended_. All he knows is that world—and everything that led to its fall.”

Leliana swallowed, stern in her gaze. “…have we found our Commander? The Cullen we know.”

Mara hung her head before answering. “No. We haven’t located him.”

Cassandra exhaled sharply.

“Solas and this Cullen will be joining us shortly. Since Cullen came to us, he hasn’t been out of mine or Solas’ sight. We’ve spoken with him— _I’ve_ spoken with him.” Mara clarified, clearing her throat. “And Solas has conducted inaugural tests. I don’t believe he has turned. And Solas has refuted a case for possession.”

The room felt small in the weight of the discourse. Leliana rose from her chair. “You said his world ended.”

“Yes… and I don’t know if there are survivors. Whatever happened…Cullen seems to blame Solas.” Curious and unforgiving eyes followed her. “Which means we probably shouldn’t leave the two of them alone together for longer than necessary.” Mara made her way to the door while summoning to Solas that they were ready. The gold ring on her left hand vibrated in a soft flutter. “Cullen is willing to talk to us. He wants to help us understand… and I want to help him.”

Cassandra ground her jaw, ruminating on an ended world with Solas’ doing. Who do you trust? A man who has led your armies in another timeline, or a God of Rebellion…and damned be his magically bound contract if in fact he is to end the world? Leliana’s eyes narrowed, thinking along the same lines of Cassandra and awaited the two.

Footsteps prodded along the wooden floor, shuffling until a finite stop. Mara inhaled, opening the door to the silent and crossed pairing. “Come in,” Mara offered, holding the door open and stepping aside for Cullen and Solas to join the party in the War Room. Cullen stepped forward cautiously, looking to Mara then to Cassandra and Leliana. “Have a seat,” she instructed with a kind but serious demeanor.

Cullen sighed, rounding the table to take a seat across from the head of the table. “How much have you told them?” Cullen asked, his hands on the back of his chosen chair before pulling it to sit down.

Leliana and Cassandra watched as this other Cullen walked through, seemingly the same until he passed their chairs in a closer view. While the same age, this Cullen carried himself a little differently—of a man who had lived through war, of a man sure of himself, of a man who carried some insurmountable weight of grief. Worn, rugged, but unmistakably Cullen Rutherford.

“Enough to get us started.” Mara looked from Cullen then to Solas, who was standing just beyond the doorway. “Will you be joining us?”

Solas sternly gritted. Apparently his time with Cullen had gone as Mara had not hoped, but anticipated. She had asked for Solas to be understanding and patient--that was not his forte with someone who already deemed him as their enemy.

Mara decided for him. “Join us, Solas. What we discuss involves all of us.”

Solas complied, sauntering forward to take the seat perpendicular to Mara’s. He waited for her to take her seat at the head of table before sitting down himself.

Leliana started after a brief yet uncomfortable pause. “The Inquisitor said you arrived from… another place. And came to us though a rift.”

Cullen shuffled his weight in his seat, already tired of explaining himself. What happened was still fresh—losing the woman he loved only a month ago, living alone on the mountainside, waiting for the world to capsize him in its wreckage, only to escape yesterday. _Yesterday_. “That is correct.” His voice was hoarse from answering Solas’ relentless questions from earlier that day.

Cullen looked to Mara, whose eyes told him she understood this pain. He breathed in, centering on her warmth.

Cullen proceeded to retell his truth—of an Inquisition, while smaller in scale, turned every stone to mitigate wars of Tevinter and the Qunari. A world where the Inquisition met with elven clans to ask for their alliance should the veil drop. A world in which, despite every effort of Mara and her forces, could not win the against the overwhelming and ever growing chaos in Thedas and the undefeatable army under Fen’Harel’s command.  
  
Handfuls of the Inquisition were captured in raids. The death of Dorian who fought against extremists in Tevinter. Leliana slain in pursuit of Mortalitasi who only provoked the Dread Wolf through blood and death magic. Cassandra and every person carrying on in the Inquisitor’s name killed or went in hiding as their faith lost, the purpose of the Herald in the grand plans forfeit.  
  
Mara and Cullen, as the last hope, had climbed the summit to Skyhold to stop Solas from dropping the veil—the Rebellion god’s desire to purge the earth through annihilation, stopping the vain wars, unleashing a festering disease to rid the earth in finality. At least for that era.  
  
How in her final moments Mara had slain Fen’Harel, but not without him breaking the red lyrium idol over her body, dooming her to an excruciating demise. How before her collapse, Mara transported Cullen to a safe house where he lived out his days—totaling a month, before the world was literally swallowed whole in staggering faults, ruptures, and raining fire.  
  
The Inner Circle remained quiet as Cullen concluded, solemn and critical of the events. Mara noticed the slanted eyes toward Solas as Cullen described the actions of Fen’Harel.  
  
“Thank you, Cullen.” Mara started, dropping her shoulders as she glanced around the table. In more silence, Mara met Cullen’s gaze, her eyes widening in a hint of sadness. “From what you’ve told us, there are similarities between our timeline and yours. For instance, we have met with many of the elven clans to ask for their guidance should the Veil drop.” Mara inhaled, straightening in her chair. “There are also decisions unique to your world.”  
  
Before she could continue Solas interjected in a disdained huff. “You mean the fact that you two were together.”  
  
_Salty_.  
  
So this is the truth he settled and fixated on.  
  
Mara shot Solas a look that in its subtlety meant she was not pleased with his focus on this detail.  
  
Cullen, all too familiar with Mara’s many minute expressions, noticed this exchange, and how this fact, like a thorn, pierced Solas in envy.  
  
Cullen fought a scoff toward Solas before answering. “The Inquisitor and I were engaged before she passed. She left me the ring that I now wear.”  
Cullen looked to Mara, a little proud in his cocked smile.  
  
“His ring... when I felt it, it was imbued with my magic. Or... _her_ magic.” Mara clarified. “Enchanted objects carry a signature that is discernible to skilled mages or enchanters. It _feels_ like my magic.”  
  
This was another reason to believe the Commander in this impossible scenario. Leliana and Cassandra read the room in the scorned and uncomfortable feelings.  
  
The Inner Circle had witnessed the Commander pining for Mara over the years, and only recently had the veil lifted on Mara’s oblivious demeanor. Both women had also wondered if his affections would amount to anything—reciprocated and matched desires. And apparently in a world just a little differently, Mara could allow herself to love him back.  
  
Leliana swallowed, the burden of the affairs of the heart becoming so meddled and likely destructive.  
  
Mara returned the conversation to what mattered. “We’ve been able to hold back the Qunari invasion in Antiva for now, alongside the Antivan Crows. We are tracking extremist cells in Tevinter and Nevarra. And we have Solas as our ally.” Mara pulled the contract from her lap that was hidden until now. She laid it flat on the table and directed it towards Cullen. “You have told us of a world in which an alliance is not formed between the Inquisition and Solas’ forces. I am guarded, yet optimistic, that this may make a difference.”  
  
Mara slid the contract further towards him, Cullen skimming the document as all eyes peered on him. His expression became exasperated and anguished the further he read.  
  
“ _To offer all who follow in my name to your bidding to drop the veil peacefully_...” Cullen angrily stood, stepping away from the table. “You want the world to end, do you? Have you been possessed? Is he manipulating you?” Cullen quieted, his eyes solely on Mara. “ _Has he threatened you_?”  
  
Mara shook her head and refuted the questions. “We can do this differently. We have the means to, and all of our reconnaissance and research suggests that the Veil can drop peacefully, and there are treaties in development to navigate a world with spirits.”  
  
“You wouldn’t say that if you lived it, Mara. _I know you_. And you would have never agreed to an alliance with the fucking Dread Wolf if you saw his destruction.” Cullen turned in a seething sneer toward Solas, breathing several times before he turned his gaze back to Mara. “He _murdered you_. In the end you died alone. Along with the rest of Thedas.”  
  
Cullen shook in his agitation, his breathing sharp and pervasive.  
  
Leliana was brave enough to redirect the tension, but was aptly worried about the reality of the dropped Veil. Had Solas been misleading them all this time? Had he captured Mara’s heart as part of his ruse? The magical contract was real. The romantic affect Solas had on Mara was real. And this Solas appeared…softened?  
  
“Could you—.” Leliana started, hesitant if Mara would be up for it. “Mara, with Sister Laudine, you were able to invade her mind and interrogate her.”  
  
Mara looked over to Cullen and mouthed _I’m sorry_ before silencing the conversation from his ears with enchantments.  
  
“He’s not our prisoner,” Mara refuted toward Leliana’s suggestion.  
  
“But we could see first-hand what really happened.” Cassandra added.  
  
Mara shook her head, considering aspects to it. “Invading minds requires a lot of magic, magic that drains me in just a few minutes.” Mara looked to Solas who was seated on her left. “ _You_ could. Your magic pool and willpower are unparalleled.”  
  
For the first time in several minutes Solas gave the smallest smile. “Even so, Vhenan, he’s much more trusting of you—even if he is a little hurt right now.” Solas adjusted some in his chair, leaning forward. “We can prepare with vials of lyrium and elfroot. I can monitor you and, if necessary, you can syphon my magic.”  
  
Mara took a moment to consider the idea. After a minute she nodded back to the Inner Circle.  
  
“What we can offer... we can ask Cullen to show us his memories. Once we target an event, it requires a lot less magic. And it would be freely offered as opposed to invading—but he’d have to be willing.”  
  
“He just might.” Cassandra retorted. “He trusts you, even if things are complicated.”  
  
Leliana looked to Cassandra before adding. “She’s right. He has the same look, but _more_ , with you.”  
  
Mara bit her tongue, choosing to not address the observation. She waved her hand and lifted the silencing enchantment.  
  
Cullen furrowed his eyebrows.  
  
“Cullen, we’d like to ask you something and... please know you can say no.” Mara paused, running a hand through her blonde hair, freed from its normal braid. “Can you show me what the world looked like when the Veil had fallen?”  
  
Cullen squinted, crossing his arms. “I don’t understand. I can give you a detailed report in a few days.”  
  
Mara swallowed, not knowing if the other Mara had dabbled in this magic. “In recent months I have studied a different type of magic. When successful, memories can be shared between the caster and the recipient.”  
  
“Are you talking about blood magic?” At this point, another astounding detail shouldn’t be surprising.  
  
“No! No.” Mara confirmed to Cullen and the rest of the table. “It’s ancient magic, and something I came across from tomes in the Deep Roads.”  
  
Cullen then realized she had been to the Deep Roads too, and wondered if the Antaam leader Rasaan had almost taken her too.  
  
“I’ve seen the Inquisitor do this magic. It’s effective.” Leliana inserted, recalling the use with Sister Laudine. That had been a strategic and desperate invasion of the mind—and yet Mara had been successful in ascertaining what secrets had been sold and to whom.  
  
Cullen glanced to Leliana, then to Cassandra, and finally focusing on Mara. There was kindness in her eyes where there didn’t have to be. While serious in her nature, there was a willing vulnerability toward him.  
  
He exhaled, uncrossing his arms to lean his body weight against the table. “If it’ll help, I will.”

  
If opening the fresh wound further would convince her otherwise, then he would do anything in his power to save her from that fate. Engrossed in each other’s awoken admiration, he had made a promise to her the morning of their first shared kiss. She was beautiful, breathless, and sighed as her heart soared for him. A promise he would keep each day of his life. _I promise to always protect you_. Another time. Another place. But it would always ring true.  
  
Mara gave him a small and grateful smile. “We’ll take an intermission to prepare the materials.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a lot of dialogue to sift through, but there's more action to come (much of which has either been planned, drafted, or written).
> 
> Thank you again for joining me on this journey. I appreciate each and every reader <3


	32. Last Man in Thedas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have fallen in love with this story and the characters. I will continue to write for the love of this journey.  
> As always, please feel free to engage with me on my writer/creator pages. I also will gratefully accept coffee to fuel my writing flow.
> 
> This chapter has been in the works for two months and has seen many revisions (and has been in my mind for much longer). I owe it to you, to the story, and to myself to do this right--thank you for waiting as I left you with a major cliffhanger.
> 
>   
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Mara offered her right hand across the war table, palm up anticipating his touch. Her gaze was focused yet soft, a kindness that would never yield. “It’ll be easier to join you,” she explained.  
  


The Inner Circle had returned to the table in the war room after the intermission. Solas on Mara’s left, Cullen directly across from Mara, and Cassandra and Leliana filling in the other chairs at the table.  
The table was now topped with warm tea among the vials of potions. Solas sat closely to Mara’s left, ready to direct guidance and supply lyrium or elfroot should she grow faint from the art of legilimency.

  
Without a glance to anyone else in the war room, Cullen met her eyes and her hand with his own, softly kneading his thumb to her open palm before taking her hand in his left.  
  
Mara’s affect and tone did not change by his touch, aware of the peering eyes in the room. “The tea will help you relax, but without falling asleep.” Mara paused, feeling the buzz and warmth of magic from his gold band in her fingers. “Your willpower and experience as a Templar may make this very difficult. That’s okay. We can go slow and you can ask me to stop at any time.”  
  
His honeyed eyes were trusting even with the task. Cullen nodded, ready to proceed.  
  
Mara paused again, inhaling before she began.  
“Close your eyes with me.”Mara instructed, watching as Cullen closed his eyes, his face softening in the rest. “Think of your home...Focus on one distinct feature.”  
  
Mara closed her own, concentrating on the touch of his warm hand. “Think of it. Describe it to me.”  
  
Cullen searched his mind and the month he spent there. There was pain and the entirety of the home weighed and spun in his mind.

_One thing._

Cullen inhaled deeply, sighing as the antique writing desk came to mind.  
  
_There was a writing desk. Your letter was left on the surface, folded into thirds and addressed to me._ Cullen stiffened, his upper back tensing as he recalled the letter. She had composed and left a letter explaining the home--a letter she prepared as she did not have the same optimism Cullen held for the fate of the world.  
  
_The desk is blue. Light blue, with brass knobs. And frankly, a little snug for me to fit into._  
  
Mara waited in silence until a morsel of a thought found her. _Blue._ Except that it was abstract and without meaning, without form.  
  
“Something blue,” Mara softly spoke. “What is around the blue?”  
  
Cullen inhaled, trying to think of anything other than the letter penned to him. His name was written in soft and flowing cursive. He had memorized her letter word for word and recited it each night in her absence until he fell asleep.  
  
_There’s a velvet armchair. In the backdrop of bay windows._ Cullen sighed, heaviness weighing in his chest. _I used to imagine you curled up there, the sunlight dancing on your skin. There was a blanket on the armchair. Something to keep you warm as you read your favorite story as if it were new again_.  
  
The feeling, not the words itself, were warm and brimming from their joined hands and coursed up to her mind.  
  
“Invite me,” Mara asked softly, a whisper that almost begged intimacy.  
  
Cullen softly smiled to himself at her words. _I want you here with me, Mara_.  
  
Through her own closed eyes, she felt a tug of bright warmth entice her. Where there wasn’t a perceivable barrier before, an invisible guard disintegrated at Cullen’s beckoning. As if gliding she found herself in a space, colors swirling ambiguously, until the collection of colors, almost like stars, fell and formed into view of the Commander at home in a quaint cabin.  
  
“You’re here,” Cullen spoke, a little surprised as she materialized into his world. She grinned back to him and silently nodded.  
  
_Can they hear me?_ Cullen mouthed, pointing to his ears framed by the golden tufts of hair.  
  
Mara softly shook her head _no_ , meeting his gaze intently.  
  
“And you?” Cullen spoke quietly, gesturing to Mara.  
  
Mara nodded, swallowing. “We’re here,” she spoke, more so addressing the Inner Circle back in the war room rather than this shared memory in the Commander’s mind.  
  
It should have felt out of place to see her there, at a home that he never had a chance to share with her. But amongst the thoughtful details of the cabin, her embodiment was what was missing.  
And the sight of her in the picturesque home she had prepared captured his heart in this moment, moving him in polar melancholy and fate.  
  
Cullen watched as a curiosity bestowed her, a glint of marvel in her eye as she slowly spun, taking in the view of the home. _Their home._  
  
She turned to him, meeting his gaze with a patient gentleness. A smile pursed her lips the longer he held her gaze.  
“You can take a look around,” he offered and after a pause she took a step away.  
  
It was breathtaking. The home charmed as natural light poured in through an expanse of windows; while quaint it was refined and inviting with fixtures soft and textured. Mara noted the blue writing desk she assumed Cullen had described. She sauntered, tracing the back of the velvet armchair under her fingertips, making her way to view the bay windows. Golden light filtered through, the windows framing a breathtaking scenery atop a mountainside. Rivers wound, autumn colors blurred. It was a perfect place to be tucked away for the rest of your days with a lover.  
  
Mara swallowed at the reality that Cullen had experienced this alone. A life to be lived with him for the rest of her days--but his Mara had fallen, and in her last act granted him an escape.  
  
Mara turned, a walled bookcase in the edge of her view. She realized Cullen was watching her as she explored, noting her expressions. She continued, making her way to a room off the den.  
  
She was met with their bedroom and the crisp, sweet scent of flowers. A vase of blushed pink peonies centered each bedside table, with a sketched portrait of the two framed on what would have been her side. Blissfully happy were the sketched couple, the drawn her radiant within a loving embrace of the Commander. It was oddly humbling to see another version of herself so captivated.  
  
Mara turned in the doorway of the bedroom, ready to depart from the intimate setting until the sight of cascading white struck in her periphery. Before even turning her head to view, her heart began to pound—and every combination of heavy and light feeling found her as she viewed a beautiful, yet romantic lace gown, hanging on a wooden hook on the back of a closet door. Her heart sunk in the gravity of devotion and against her better impulse, her hand reached forward to the fabric.

And yet…when loved differently, she had prepared a life and all the trimmings with someone else. She had protected him, saved him, and set aside her days to love and be loved. And if she had survived it, she had obtained a breathtaking gown to vow to be forever the Commander’s.

It was impossible. And disquieting.  
  
A low and throaty voice rose behind her left ear. _Have you made it outside?_  
  
Startled, Mara turned, the lace folded in her fingers falling from her touch, to walk back into the main area of the cabin, away from the private details she had no purpose of seeing. “Surveying the area. We’re heading outside.”  
  
Cullen watched as she returned from the bedroom, reddened, and a little serious. He cocked his head at her statement then surmised, “You can hear them.”  
  
Mara nodded, gesturing toward the door to the outside. “Can you show me what the world looked like when you were first sent here?”  
  
Solemn replaced whatever quiet exterior Cullen had worn at first. He inhaled, closing his eyes to the home. Within a moment, the lighting changed inside the cabin, darkening with the last remaining light of dusk.  
  


When Cullen had opened his eyes, a loud thump echoed behind the pair. Another Cullen, or the Cullen from memory, was knelt and panicked on the hardwood floor. The panic turned into a brokenness, and a shattering sob rolled out of him as he swayed closer to the ground.  
  
Mara swallowed, her lip trembling and presumed that this was the moment he was transported to this cabin to save his life. This was the moment his lover had died to save him and any hope of the world.  
  
She fought against the intuition to help him, realizing that as a memory it was impossible to help him now. Cullen kept his eyes low as Mara watched the memory, recognizing the tug and pull his unraveled grief had on her kind spirit.  
  
Within a few minutes the memory-Cullen inhaled deeply, forcing himself up to survey wherever she had sent him. Mara watched as the memory-Cullen glanced briefly around the cabin before darting outside. Mara and Cullen followed the memory to the outdoors, only a few paces from his heels.  
  
While the last of the light remained in the sky, a range of mountains dotted the western skyline. The foliage was damp and dark green, the air crisp and surprisingly cool. They followed the memory as he continued, skirting along the forest until a pasture opened on a clearing. Mara watched the Cullen from memory pause, closing his eyes with his hand outstretched. The brush of the field was about waist-height, his hand a few inches above the flowing field.

He was observing something. Mara walked forward to stand next to the memory, feeing what he had felt. A magical boundary existed between the land and where Cullen’s hand lay. Mara felt it starkly on her skin, where it was and where it wasn’t. Sensing the perimeter of a barrier, Mara walked along the land and through the thick of a field of green as she headed on without the memory. The further she stepped away from the memory, the heavier and slower her movements felt as if gravity forced her to the ground. Mara panted, stating her observation. “There’s a magical barrier around the safehouse. The radius is about a mile away and continues.” Her heart rate quickened as the overexertion compounded.  
  
The real Cullen had watched her and his eyes softened. “Mara, are you okay?”  
  
Within a second another voice spoke into her left ear. _You’re doing great Vhenan. If you’re feeling drained, ask him to guide you. It should be less of a strain on your magic._  
  
Mara nodded to Solas’ comment, turning her gaze to Cullen who stood before her, worried, in a lonely and lush field at twilight. “Will you lead me?”  
  
His eyes had narrowed observing her fatigue. Cullen extended his arm ready to help her at her request. “Of course, Mara.”  
  
It felt all too easy to take his arm. Her right hand wrapped around his left and instantaneously she felt restored. Cullen watched her face flush in relief.  
  
_What else do you notice? The sky, the weather, the Fade?_  
  
“If anything, I think we’re far away from Skyhold. There’s a mountain range to the west that I’m unfamiliar with.” Mara watched as the memory-Cullen appeared to begin walking back to the cabin. At Cullen’s lead, Mara followed, keeping her hand tightly around his arm.  
  
“The magic feels...normal.”  
  
Too soon.  
  
As if a large drum were strum, a low beat reverberated and shook the earth. Mara tightened her hold on Cullen as his other arm found her waist. Goosebumps rose, along with a crisp static to the air. The ground shook for a slow ten seconds before coming to a halt, along with the energized magic.  
  
“There was an earthquake... and magic felt... _livened_. Both stopped after about 10 seconds.” Mara addressed the Inner Circle and then looked to Cullen. “Do the earthquakes continue?”  
  
Gravely Cullen nodded before returning to follow the memory to the cabin.  
  
“They continue.” Mara addressed the Inner Circle, hypothesizing that the earthquakes only grew stronger from there.  
  
They followed the memory from the field and back through the darkened forest, close on the memory’s trail. The sky had darkened to its nightly hue, the canopy of the forest blocking any remaining light the moon had to offer. Fogged breaths and hands even closer, Cullen led them through the stiff brush and foliage in silence. The chill of the night air was no comparison in watching the Commander process the loss, trailing in his melancholy and realization of being left completely and utterly alone.  
  
She had saved him, and apparently no one else.  
  
Mara and Cullen followed the memory back inside the cabin, the door closing behind them.

~

Cullen closed the cabin door behind him, his fingers slow in trailing from the knob to his side. He didn’t recognize the cabin or the location, and in his mind began to filter through their list of acquired lands and residences.

But this… this was different. It was more than the bare necessities. It was someone’s _home_ with small touches, a fragrance of flowers, leathered books lining an antique shelf, picture frames spaced on the mantle of the fireplace.

Cullen stepped forward to the stone fireplace, his feet like lead, disjointed and heavy as he identified the people in the carved frames.

The Inquisition. A portrait Josephine had commissioned as a monument to the accomplishments of the Inquisition before her leave. And apparently, there was more than one copy.

This was a safehouse.

This was meant to be a home.

The Inner Circle stood proud with a note of… _loss_... as many were about to go their own ways. Dorian had left shortly after Josephine. As had Varric. Sera popped in occasionally, with her presence less frequent in the last year.

And in the middle there she stood. Prominent, hopeful, ceaseless. Cullen had found himself next to her for the portrait, unable to resist her draw. This was before she knew of his admiration. Before he had kissed her for the first time, and before a path that led him down the greatest story of his life.

There was a glint in his eye in the portrait along with a half-cocked smile. While the rest of the Inner Circle had posed for the artist, his body was slightly turned to Mara’s. Anticipating her, yearning. And this was somehow captured.

He would give anything to relive any small moment with her.

Cullen bowed his head, his hands gripping the mantle in frustration while an incoherent and agonized sound escaped his gritted teeth.

The Dread Wolf had slain her. He had selfishly taken the only light left in Thedas, dooming her to excruciating suffering. Her eyes had turned red as the red Lyrium had corrupted her body in minutes--the way it had taken months or years to plague the Red Templars.

His hands tightened their grip on the mantle as his anguish rose, seething, suffering in torment. A crack formed in his hands and the mantle began to crumble, and all too characteristically the picture frame toppled and fell from the brute force, the glass shattering on the wood floor. 

In hollowing shame Cullen lowered himself to the floor to pick up his careless mess. The frame had fallen front first, the back of the frame unhinged and skewed in its drop. Cullen peered closer, raising the frame in his hands to fix the calamity. Cursive flowed on the back of the portrait in a hand he would recognize anywhere.

_I remember this day. I remember thinking you looked breathtakingly handsome--and that from then forth it would be just us. I could have never guessed what happened next, but I thank each day I had to love you in return._

Breathing hitched and with another shred to his broken heart, his amber eyes began to water. From the defeated crouch near the floor he began to observe the cabin fully. 

It wasn’t just a furnished home. It was a home filled with things that she would have loved.

And a letter penned to him on a blue desk--his name in the same flowing cursive.

~

The Commander fell asleep that night, holding onto her last words left for him. Holding on to the memory of her, the love she held actualized in this home, and to the space in their bed where she should have been. To the space in his heart she would always hold.

**_______**

In the first week, the Commander inventoried the supplies of the home and surveyed the expanse of the land. The cabin easily contained a few months of food even in moderate rations for two, elaborate rations for one. There were health and first aid supplies, an array of weapons, and a couple changes of armor for two.

The location of the safehouse was brilliant—a steady supply of wood from the forest, small and medium sized animals for food, and a river flowed through part of the land within the barrier. The barrier spanned a radius of at least one mile from the safehouse.

There were little changes in the first week. Solemn suffering. Quiet suffering. Cullen awoke each morning to prepare himself for the day, making himself coffee and breakfast, and slinging on his sword and boots to evaluate any changes to the land, the sky, or the Veil and noting this in a empty journals left for him.

Each night he knelt and prayed, reciting the Chant of Light, praying for her soul to be returned to the Maker, thanking the Maker for sending her upon the world and in his life, and ending in guttural grief that could only be spoken through his spirit.

Crawling into bed, he stayed on his side, rereading her last testament before closing his eyes to sigh and release the love of her into the silence.

Seven days in, the Commander awoke to a stark and severing rumbling. From above or down below, Cullen couldn’t discern. In a flash he pulled on his boots and sword, rushing out into the midnight sky that was strangely glowing orange. His feet led him in a hurry, brushing against the cold and damp foliage until the forest changed to a pasture. In a sudden stop, his weight almost barreled through the barrier—a barrier whose radius had been cut short. In the near darkness lit in an orange luminosity he saw the place where the barrier had been. In that direction the midnight orange sky pulsed menacingly, and within a moment the ground reverberated with the sky, shaking, rumbling, and beyond the barrier the earth severed in parts to form ravines.

In the tremor, Cullen gripped a deciduous tree near him, waiting for more than a minute before the tremors stopped. This earthquake was stronger than the first and longer in duration. Cullen inhaled deeply several times, eying the split of the earth beyond the barrier before turning to walk back to protection of the cabin.

~

21 days homed within the cabin, Cullen awoke again to a shattering quake, the frame that held an intimate portrait of himself and Mara rattling until its demise against the floor from the bedside table. In a flurry, he was up and darted from the cabin, running through the dense forest to look at the sky before him. A larger breach had now formed in the sky, adding to a number of smaller rifts torn in the sky beyond the barrier. The radius of the barrier had shortened, and anything beyond began to decay and waste away as if cursed. Trees, plants, and wild animals were dead and spoiling in a repugnant odor beyond the safety of the barrier.

The reality burdened his chest and he was startled when he heard something beyond his heavy breathing.

An almost deafening screech turned Cullen toward a figure barreling toward him--raised, dark, and not of this part of the world.

 _Darkspawn_.

A fleet of darkspawn trampled through the cursed and broken earth, navigating as if released and freed from the Deep Roads. A hoard stampeded toward Cullen, and in this sight his vigor was restored. Cullen raised a thick and ornate greatsword, a war cry bellowing from the warrior’s lungs. Adrenaline coursed through him, prepared and ready to defend what little solace remained.

At his shout, the darkspawn shrieked, prepared to dispatch to their next victim until a wall of flames scorched the earth, burning the darkspawn that dared to pass the barrier into a disintegrated ash.

Cullen panted, watching for the first time the barrier’s use. Amazed, Cullen took a few steps back and watched as the remainder of the hoard fell into termination upon the defensive barrier that had been cast around the home. 

Cullen only allowed himself to marvel for a moment, the reality that much more and much worse were to come. The barrier’s circumference shortened almost daily, and the widening fissures of the earth and the broken sky only held off the inevitable.

With a heavy sigh, Cullen retreated back to the cabin, kneeling to pray before returning to his bed.

~

30 days.

The barrier had narrowed, weakened, and finally depleted on the 30th day. The barrier, like that of hope, had ceased.

The barrier had weakened in pockets, Cullen working around the clock to solidify its defense, slaying darkspawn that had passed barely scathed, until the cabin was the final line of defense.

In the last week, Cullen had taken to boarding up the windows of the cabin, preparing for the inevitable fall out of magic or darkspawn. 

After a meager dinner, he knelt by the bed, praying for grace as his warrior’s intuition whispered of the end.

A devastating quake thundered through the ground, a fissure forming and splitting the cabin mercilessly in two, the wood creaking and rumbling as furniture, pictures, and possessions cascaded into the fault.

______

Mara began to pant, moving back from the floor that had caved in. Her grip tightened on Cullen’ arm, her eyes widening as she watched the memory of Cullen, knelt in prayer, as the world fell around him.

Unflinching, he stayed knelt, his head bowed.

He was prepared to go.

He was prepared to meet the Maker and the love of his life in the Golden City.

He had… _given up_.

Mara could not stomach this. She shook her head, her eyes misting as she balled her hands into fists. She was…frustrated.

But why?

This was what was left of the world. This was what was left of him.

Supplies to live out the days to the end.

Mara wiped the moisture from her eyes, walking away from Cullen and navigating through the destroyed home to his knelt memory. Mara lowered herself to the ground with him, placing a hand softly on the memory’s shoulder. It wasn’t logical, trying to impart comfort and peace to something in which she could not control, in which she knew how it ended. But tonight her compassion led, against the reasoning, and she waited with him.

The walls crumbling, the crevasse furthering, the howls of unnatural wind, of horizontal lightning, of the screeching of darkspawn, all just beyond the remaining walls surrounded the last remaining man in Thedas.

Their bodies shook as another sudden and cataclysmic quake threatened to consume them. Mara gripped the memory’s shoulder, while he remained steadfast in his prayer, bowing to the Maker bound to meet him soon. 

A strong tug brought her to her feet just as the floor she had knelt to fell into the deepening fissure. The present Cullen appeared bewildered, trying to read her present state. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Mara.”

Cullen shuffled back suddenly, tugging at her again just before the earth boomed in another quake and the crevasse widened further.

Mara looked to Cullen, breathing quickly, with eyes that were uniquely trusting as the roof fell through, showcasing a raining storm of fire and crackling lightning. She met his steady gaze and then turned to the memory, watching further as he waited to fall with the rest of the earth.

Mara could not stand this demise of a man who had fought so valiantly until the end.

 _Not like this_. Cullen watched as she warred with herself, taking a step forward to the sinkhole in pursuit of changing the fate. 

“Just wait. It’s almost over.”

At the last syllable, what started as a spark tore and split the reality before them, a rift in which its epicenter imperceivably bright as a quasar, pulsed and beckoned the last fate.

The Cullen from memory moved, or rather, his left arm lifted in prayer or reverence. But upon further investigation, the ring he wore had tethered piercing blue light to the rift, humming in a remarkable brilliance.

And in that second, Cullen’s eyes shown some semblance of hope as beautiful as Mara had ever witnessed. The Cullen from memory stood shakily, the earth giving way under his feet as he prodded to the rift, somehow not blinded in the brilliance.

“Follow me.” The direction startled her, remembering that she and Cullen were spectators among the memory; they were within and without. 

Cullen tugged on her hand, narrowing his eyes as the chasm before them grew. “We have to jump. Do you trust me?”

Hurriedly Mara nodded, squeezing his hand and darting as he leapt across the chasm that had split the cabin through the floorboards and walls, much of the furniture plummeting to an end. Cullen landed first and caught her as more of the floor began to give in. She looked down upon the sinkhole they had just escaped, a chasm of haunting red Lyrium continued for more than one hundred feet below the cabin. Falling rainfire began to scorch the remnants of the cabin as the howling winds brought forth a hoard of darkspawn into the cabin, drawn to the remaining man and the beaming light.

Mara raised her right arm to cast magic to stall the impending hoard, but Cullen tugged on her one more time, his hands swiftly trailed her arm to her hand. “We have to go. Now!”

Smoke, fire, and decay swirled around the pair, the frays of her hair singeing and swept from the roaring heat. She accepted his hand, if only briefly looking to his eyes in faith.

Cullen followed the memory in haste to escape into the near blinding rift as the integrity of the cabin and their world disintegrated. On the memory’s coattails, Mara and Cullen in hand evaded the nightmare, arriving in an overwhelming and blinding snap of light.

Disoriented, Mara tightly shut her eyes, a pain building behind her eyes. An overcast dampened the penetrating light and as her eyes remained closed, she felt blanketed in a warmth and calming presence. Grounding, she focused on a few senses. Fingers snaked in hers, a scent of musk and fire just beyond her mouth. 

Mara brought her free hand around the Commander’s waist as he solidly stood, watching as some discomfort and confusion slowly dissipated across her face. Mara pulled her body to his core, wrapping him in some poor semblance of comfort. It was all she had, and her heart and her body broke in his pain.

Cullen felt as a silent sob shook her body, one arm enveloping her body in a calming and tender hold. His mouth brushed the crown of her hair as she sobbed into his chest. “Come with me.”

~

The memory skipped ahead in dashes as Cullen instinctively made his way to one of the last forts the Inquisition held, not knowing what he would find or whom. The sun shone through wisps of normal clouds. There were no earthquakes or raining fire. There were no mobs of darkspawn exiting from fresh ravines in the earth. The rift of blinding light he had walked through had vanished without a trace, as if the pain and the fallen were a thought to be forgotten.

Thedas looked peaceful. Normal. As if the veil hadn’t fallen.

As his boots prodded the ground, Cullen wondered if this part of the world hadn’t been afflicted yet with the curse.

Cullen and Mara trailed the memory, Mara leaned more into his arm to keep from falling behind as their shuffled feet took them further through his mind. He had asked for more. He had asked for her to witness what could only be the remnants of this chapter; she just had to hold on a little while longer. Panting quietly, Mara closed her eyes tightly to focus on drawing magic from her ring as her own resources had been depleted long ago. She didn’t know how long she had been here with Cullen, but it far surpassed her time interrogating Sister Laudine.

 _Just a little bit more_.

Mara opened her eyes again, the scene had jumped a little further ahead to the outside of the hold. The memory quickly pacing up the steps to the hold, being greeted and saluted by the Inquisition forces, and Cullen’s swift pace that increased to a dart as he made his way to a room all too familiar.

Clutching the man beside her, Mara gazed at the memory as Cullen saw _her_ for the first time—how elated, humbled, and breathless his face shown as he returned to his lover as the journal clambered to the floor.

And that when she—Mara herself—was lifted in the homecoming kiss, her disposition had momentarily allowed herself to be captivated. This was starkly evident in the enchantment of her brushed rose cheeks and the smile that had formed mid-kiss, the acceptance and hint of yearning in her relaxed features.

And this thought spun as she had fallen unto collapse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been in the works for two months and has seen many revisions (and has been in my mind for much longer). I owe it to you, to the story, and to myself to do this right--thank you for waiting as I left you with a major cliffhanger.
> 
> This chapter explores a memory and the dialogue may be confusing. While Mara views the memory, dialogue that is italicized originates from the outside war room. Regularly quoted dialogue happens within the context of the memory.
> 
> For the sake of condensing the memory, the memory to the reader is initially experienced live (as if it were happening in real time for Mara to view) and then described as if retold. This is separated by a long dash.
> 
> And alas--the Homecoming kiss.
> 
>   
>    
> 


	33. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor and Commander wake to a dispelled truth.
> 
> (TW: violence)
> 
> Flashbacks are denoted with long dashes.

~

“Mara.” With urgency her name was called, and with heavy and dizzying eyes she awoke and reviewed the scenery.

She was back in the war room with four pairs of eyes on her in some sort of sad scrutiny.

A cloth was dabbed below her nose with some vile concoction to follow, pouring hurriedly into her mouth. Mara rubbed her blurry eyes, forcing herself to swallow the contents of the vial.

“You fainted.” Cullen paused, his features downturned as he viewed her. She had lost most of the color in her skin, and her usual rose-tinted cheeks had a sullen greyish hue. “I didn’t realize what it was doing to you.”

Leliana gritted her teeth as Mara was considerably much worse off this time than with Sister Laudine. Mara had expended every resource of her own and every vial of elfroot and Lyrium on the table. The longer the pair had ventured into the memory, the further they stilled with Mara continuing on by sheer will alone—with intermittent tightened grasps between hers and the Commander’s hands and labored breathing. The line between admirable and foolish had been blurred.

“How long were we—” Mara’s voice was raspy and fatigued.

“Almost an hour.” Solas offered before she finished her question. “There’s tea with elfroot before you. Start on that as I gather more vials.” Solas swiftly stood, quickly retreating for more supplies from beyond the war room.

Mara hadn’t realized her right hand was still bound to Cullen’s left—tightly—and delicately unwound her fingers from his before she reached for the tea.

The sadness overwhelmed Cullen’s features. After coming through the rift, the last time he had looked at her was to impart a nuzzled affection to the crown on her hair. Her steps trailed as his quickened, coveting this path and the shortened distance between him and her eminence. And as the homecoming was rekindled too brightly for prose, her weight descended to her knees, pulling them both starkly in an immersion of colors to reform into the less splendid occupancy of the war room.

Cullen’s throat tightened and what came next was a whisper, ignoring all else in the room. “You should have said something.”

A weak smile formed glimmering faintly through her eyes. “You had more to show me.”

This answer would never appease him, and their eyes locked in some unspoken and tethered understanding.

Cassandra cleared her throat to dissolve the oddly intimate mood of the room. “Did you see enough? At least enough to inform our approach?”

Mara nodded, her hands wrapping around the warm ceramic mug before her. “Yes.” Mara cleared her throat before continuing. “From what I witnessed, there are implications for us to review.” Her eyes darted from Cassandra and then to Leliana. Much of the memory went unspoken, and it was possible the Commander had not made the same assessments concerning the other world’s magic.

In shaky hands Mara brought the mug to her lips, an all too sweet elfroot tea pouring into her mouth. Solas did always overdo it with sugar to cover his disdain for the taste of tea itself.

Lowering, the mug rattled in her trembling hands until met with an offer of security. Of strength. From across the table, Cullen’s hands naturally secured hers, stopping the mug from slipping from her weakened hands.

The gesture and his returning warm smile brought color back to her fatigued face, remembering that just before they were swimming in his memories of intimate notions and harrowing goodbyes. He gazed at her in a way of mutual familiarity, a look whose weight mirrored the intimacy of every touch of his since he walked out of the rift and into fate.

She couldn’t allow herself to share in this warm exchange or the care that radiated from his eyes of gold. Not in this room. Not in this place. Not in this time. 

As her heart filled her cavity, Mara looked down as another voice retuned to the room. “I found more Lyrium. How are you feeling, Vhenan?” Solas’ steps continued as he closed in on the table, aiming to resume his seat.

 _Vhenan_.

In an elongated flash, Cullen’s eyes observed a string of details that had not been apparent before. The caress of her shoulder in the Dread Wolf’s fingers to move back strands of her draped blonde hair. The closeness of Solas’ seating to the woman he had left in shambles years ago, nearly taking the very will and fight from her eyes.

And for the first time her ungloved hands gleamed a band of gold.

Fen’Harel hadn’t humbly returned to the friends he made in the Inquisition. He had returned to capture _her_. And she allowed him. They _all_ allowed him to roam and take what had been built aside from him--the halls of her Inquisition, the walls of her mind, letting him roam the expanse of her succumbed skin.

Cullen’s eyes lowered to their joined hands, his hands still cradling around Mara’s and the porcelain mug they held. Cullen’s eyes and right thumb swiped over the band that adorned her left hand, noting the inscription of Elvhen that turned as his thumb spun the band on her ring finger.

At the touch Mara’s heart dropped, a pang of fault immersing her spirit. This was not how she wanted to tell him. Not as he led her through the recesses of his mind in hand and the haunting life he led in solitude until the end. Not as he singularly had trusted her when all else faded away.

Her eyes welled in remorse as the conclusion overcame him.

“How could you?” The betrayal in his timbre pierced her heart equally. The warrior’s hands tightened, snapping what had been mistakenly cradled in his hold. His stature rose, towering over the woman whose own blood was on her hands. “You… _HIM_.”

The first droplet against the war table propelled responses from the hovering party. The Inner Circle rose to their feet in defense alongside the Dread Wolf.

“COMMANDER!” Cassandra yelled, drawing her sword in combination with a forced gust of wind sparked in effervescent blue, throwing the Commander back from the table and the hold he had mistaken.

“You make one more move against and you forfeit your life.” Wisps of blue magic wafted from Solas’ silhouette, his voice commanding submission from the fool thrown across the room. This side of Solas more closely resembled the stories they had heard of Fen’Harel—somehow his presence had grown in a formidable and haunting manner.

The Commander’s mind spun in disarray, his body disheveled against the back wall. How peculiar for the world to be aligned so differently, defending against one of their own in an alliance with the god yet to obliterate this world.

Solas’ eyes stayed on the Commander for a seething moment before turning to his lover teetering on a state of shock. Mara’s eyes had widened and centered in a familiar fear as chaos ensued beyond her shrinking shell. A concoction of tea and fresh blood pooled and trickled from the shards of broken porcelain in her dirtied hands.

It was the nightmare--and as Cassandra and Leliana turned to view their leader, it was evident for the first time the strong reaction of a snapped Commander. Solas knelt in front of the Inquisitor, picking the broken pieces from her shaking hands.

“Mara.” Solas started, his voice entirely different and woven in patient adoration. “You’re safe.” An affectionate hand gently lined her face. “It’s just like the dream.” 

Mara’s eyes shifted, now focusing on Solas’ sharp yet breathtaking features. Eyes of the palest blue returned her affection—and this she clung to. The warmth instilled by his presence traversed the depths of her, her heart beating renewed in his wake. _This_ she trusted.

_He was her home._

Solas watched as small muscles in her face began to relax, her eyes softening, and her breath finally stable and warm. “There you are, Vhenan. We should call it a night.” A hand swept through her blonde hair starting at her temple, ending in a gentle caress to her ear. “Cassandra and Leliana will take you to get cleaned up.”

Solas waited until Mara acknowledged his offer with a nod before looking to her trusted Inner Circle. They had watched and were ready to intercede, helping Mara to stand from the armchair, leading her out of the war room in soft murmurs but not without wondering what would occur in the war room without their witness.

Cassandra and Leliana were quiet for several minutes other than small instruction, carefully picking out the small porcelain shards that had left a number of gashes in the Inquisitor’s hands.

Mara deliberated in silence, mulling over what facet of life to speak to first, breathing deeply to quell the fright and conflict. It was now evident to all that there were repercussions to when their Commander had questioned her loyalties. They could very easily deduce that this action had haunted her for many nights with her body remembering the pain of the sudden distrust and snapped judgment. 

Mara had also depleted her resources and went against better judgment to witness a truth of another world and its decay—and the blame that had been placed on Fen’Harel.

And then there was the most obvious leading to her fragile state.

“I’m sorry, Inquisitor.” Leliana’s words for the first to break the silence. “I didn’t know his actions…” Her voice trailed as it may not be wise to verbalize the act. 

Mara swallowed while her gaze remained lowered. “I forgave him.” She stifled a sharp inhale as Leliana pulled on a piece of porcelain from a gash on her left hand. “My body took longer to forget.”

Another minute passed before an interjection.

“I take it he has been in your company since his arrival…You…hadn’t told him?” The question arose as Leliana numbed Mara’s hand further before continuing her work.

It wasn’t an invading question. Rather, it was asked with some semblance of care. Cassandra passed Leliana tools to pull further pieces from her flesh.

Mara exhaled, shaking her head. “He had just lost everyone he cared for. And this morning I confirmed that he had I had never...” Mara’s discontinued this thought to honor his privacy. She averted her eyes to settle on another path. Her mouth opened before she was ready, stringing together an intrinsic reaction of protection. “How much life altering news can someone take at once?”

For as much judgment as they could pass right now, they didn’t. They knew her heart and could guess her intentions. And while unspoken, they had guessed Mara had a soft spot for the Commander for whom she could not return anything more.

In dignity, Cassandra steered the subject away from the palpable tension of emotions. “Was it… true?”

Mara lifted her gaze and gave a solemn nod. “He showed me the end. And how he came here to us.”

Leliana pursed her lips into a wry smile. “What _did_ the Commander do when he showed up here?” Her eyebrow arched as Cassandra handed her gauze to begin wrapping Mara’s hand.

Mara bit her lip, hesitating before responding. She recalled the flush of heat on her lips as he had taken her into the care of his arms, committing to memory a moment that had stunned her in more ways than one. And to watch herself be taken by this gesture vividly in a replay ... “He believed I was her.” Mara swallowed, her cheeks reddening in a truth she dare not speak of.

Leliana sighed, construing her own meaning of how their confused reunion may have gone. More color filled Mara’s face as she recovered—and reveled in the memory. 

Heads turned as Solas had cleared his voice from the doorway. “We’re done for the evening. You can continue tomorrow after the Inquisitor takes rest.”

Ordinarily an interjection like this would not be well received, but a chance for resolve was thin tonight as the air was still heavy from the row.

“We’ll reconvene at noon tomorrow, after your meeting Leliana.” Mara stood from her chair looking to Solas. “I’ll let you know when you can join us.” The Inquisition was still her responsibility, and alliance or not, she needed to speak in trust with her Inner Circle.

Leliana’s brow arched, perceiving the balance of power in the room, and pride instilled when Mara attested to the boundaries. “Yes, Inquisitor.”

“Is he still alive in there?” Cassandra began to clean up and arrange the supplies used to mend the Inquisitor’s hand.

The scoff bellowing out of Solas clearly meant _yes, for now_. 

“I’ll finish cleaning up here if you wish to go.” Cassandra offered, looking to Leliana then to Mara.

“Thank you both. I will see you tomorrow then?” Mara made her way to the exit, Solas following suit.

“I’ll follow you out Inquisitor.” Leliana added, pausing to look at Cassandra before gathering herself to leave.

Cassandra waited until the foyer was clear for a few minutes, putting away supplies, before attempting to go back into the war room. 

“Commander?” Cassandra called, watching as Cullen posed defeated in a leather armchair, his hands in his golden locks with his head bowed. Cullen remained silent even after Cassandra’s initiation.

“A word.” Cassandra’s stern stance was enough to give the Commander pause. Cullen raised his head as his hands fell to his lap, crossing them in earnest as his leg began to shake against the foot of the armchair.

At this small movement, Cassandra entered the war room and proceeded to the corner he had chosen, leaning against the table to focus on his state and body language. Cassandra looked over the Commander’s tense posture, his teeth almost gritted, his golden eyes darkened into scrutinizing the situation--but what was more telling was the slight tremor of his hands.  
  


Cassandra began after a pause. “Did you trust your Inquisitor?”  
  
His eyes briefly glanced toward Cassandra, then away to deflect. Even given the context, he wasn’t prepared for that question. It was another moment before he answered, tight-lipped. “I did.”  
  
“And your Inner Circle. Did you trust Leliana and I?”  
  
A low huff rolled out of the Commander’s mouth as he crossed his arms, his shaky fingertips strumming his forearms. Remnants of her blood had stained his fingers, despite having run a towel through his soiled hands and thoughts. “Your point?” His tone was sharper that he should allow and Cassandra upheld her integrity.  
  
“Would we not review each situation critically, with skepticism, with caution, and review all intel before planning a course of action?”  
  
Cullen’s eyes narrowed, still annoyed with the probing.  
  
“The position we find ourselves in was not agreed upon lightly. And it required a unanimous consensus after we were able to review all accounts.  
 _We_ decided this, not just the Inquisitor. And you—or he— _our Commander_ agreed to it, too.  
Solas is not part of our Inner Circle, and these are the first few times he has joined us with relevant matters.  
We lead the Inquisition. And I’ll be damned if the integrity of our work is corrupted through anyone’s touch.” Cassandra had a way of piercing those with her words, and to name the truth when others skirt around it. Cullen had appreciated this over the years, even if it were to confront his vices.  
  
“Has it been worse since you came here?” While still serious in tone, Cassandra’s lilt now resembled a light shade of care.  
  


Cullen squinted, denying her allowance to prod further into this interrogation.  
  
“Your hands are trembling. And I recognized the look when you saw the vials of Lyrium prepared on the table.”  
  
The Commander looked down at his shaking and stained fingers and willed them to stop—and they couldn’t. He balled his hands into fists, ignoring the call out while his frustration lay elsewhere.  
  
“I can keep an eye on you.”  
  
Cullen raised from the armchair, standing out of momentous frustration, and began pacing as Cassandra remained still. He ran his hands through his golden hair, sighing and huffing with an air of disbelief.  
  
After a moment the pacing stopped and Cullen looked Cassandra in the eyes for the first time. The strong exhale that followed shattered the wall he constructed to guard his mind. _This_ Cassandra had helped the ex-Templar through his Lyrium addiction and withdrawals. She oversaw the recovery and the warring of willpower and temptation. And yet she offered the same still, so many years later.  
  
Cassandra met his gaze unblinking.  
  
“It got worse after she died...After everyone died.”  
  
Cassandra remained quiet to allow him to continue.  
  
“And now...” The level of frustration within him was unrivaled to any point in his existence. It seethed and moved with him. It touched every part of his being. The agony and anger consumed him and Lyrium whispered to him as a cure—or if not a cure then an out to feel _anything_ other than the shame and spite exhausting his soul.

  
“It’s as if the loss is new.” Cassandra’s commentary was unnecessary, but she recognized the gravity of pain that turned in his eyes as he acknowledged the Inquisitor belonged to another. “I will make sure it doesn’t become too much.”  
  
The laughing-scoff Cullen produced was unkind, but it was unimaginable to think he would ever be okay with these circumstances.  
  
“I mean it, Commander.” The seriousness cut through his exterior and commanded his full attention to Cassandra’s charitable and grave offer.  
  
Cullen swallowed and after some time nodded in agreement. “Like last time.”  
  
Cassandra sharply inhaled through her nose, her features characteristically stoic. Cullen began to move toward the exit and was stilled by her last words.  
  
“I would be remiss if I were not to remind you of Her title and the esteem it entails. She is our leader, and while you will give your account...do not forget where our loyalties lie.” Cassandra would not stand for another day to hear the Inquisitor’s name or character cursed.  
  


The words hung in the air as Cullen’s eyes downturned. His fingertips strummed the doorframe as he chose his words. “Goodnight, Lady Cassandra.”  
  


* * *

Cullen closed the door of his bedchambers behind him, adjusting his eyes to the dim lighting of his room. As he entered into the room, he heard the faint rustling of sheets. To some beautiful surprise, Cullen could just make out the outline of the curved goddess tangled in his sheets, sleeping peacefully in the center of his large bed.

“My love.” Cullen crawled into the bed, nuzzling her neck with the soft scruff of his beard, planting a kiss below her ear. “What are you doing here?”

A string of incoherent murmurs mumbled out of her tired lips. Cullen responded in a soft chuckle, nestling just behind her as he wrapped his arm over the expanse of her hips. “My love.” Cullen whispered again, trailing indulgent kisses from her ear, down the line of her neck, and along the freed skin of her shoulder draped in a silk camisole.

A smile widened across Mara’s lips as she turned over onto her back, Cullen just to her right, the tenderness arousing her senses from her sleep. Her hands found his silhouette in the dark, her fingers lining the sharpness of his jaw, stopping only to lightly drag her fingertips across his unflawed mouth. “I had to be here to welcome you home.” Mara raised, pushing her lips against his, impassioned and wanting, her fingers finding whatever fabric they could as she pulled him to her. For someone who was just peacefully resting, a fire had been lit within her, and Cullen tasted this as his tongue rolled into her mouth. It was a minute before Mara could regain her words as his touch and returned affection enchanted her already won heart. “ _I missed you so much.”_ The words drifted from her panting mouth.

His fingers had become entangled in her hair. He softly pulled and Mara’s head lifted back as her lips parted for more. Her body ached in the waiting, undeniably yearning for his continued touch. Mara felt as his body rolled atop of hers. She inhaled several times in the pause before his mouth met hers in a way entirely differently than a moment ago. A depth, a vulnerability, a willingness. The infatuation resounded, but it was so much more. Above her, her legs wrapped around his core, his hands chasing the extent of her skin up through her thighs. Cullen pressed his scarred lips to hers, waiting until whispering softly against her parted mouth. “ _You_ are my home, Mara.”

His perfect words flooded her senses; a rush of warmth permeated the expanse of her body. She had been afraid to convey the extent of her adoration and the growing fear of a world without him. One of her hands ran through the thick golden waves of his hair, following down to the expanse of his chest, resting her hand over the heat of his pounding heart. Mara’s eyes widened as the reality threatened to swallow her whole. With the downturn of the world, losing agents and friends, with losses stacking more than their victories, Mara selfishly and singularly focused on the deep-rooted need for the light he brought to her world.  
  


“I don’t want to be away from you for that long again. I can’t.” Mara had never been dependent on anyone, unmoving in her commitment to justice even when drowning in compounding pain. But in recent days she found herself staying in his room while away, surrounding herself in the warmth and scent of where he called home. The textures of his sweaters were soothing when dressed over her smaller frame. The aroma of his cologne made her believe for a moment she wasn’t alone when dousing herself in the comforts of his belongings.

Cullen watched as the moonlight displayed her features of vulnerability, watching as her eyes processed the heaviness of loss and fear. “I will never leave you, my love. You have my word.” His right hand traced from her thigh, his fingertips skirting the skin of her thigh, her waist, and chest until he found her left hand, weaving his fingers with hers, then led her hand to his mouth. “I’ve been dreaming of ways to love you.” His scarred lips dragged delicately over her hand, stopping to tenderly kiss her ring finger, where an heirloom should adorn her hand.

Her heart swelled at the notion—for her spirit wanted exactly the desires they both feared to speak.

* * *

Three taps rattled the wooden door, causing the Commander to stir among the linens in his bed. The expanse of his broad shoulders arched first before bringing his hands to his face to orient himself. His eyes opened to the space to his left, where the bed was unwrinkled, empty, and cool without her.

Two taps repeated against the door after a pause, the Commander’s senses were alerted instead of the fallen guard he had allowed in her memory. Swiftly and cautiously, Cullen raised from the bed and walked to the door, listening briefly for movement before turning the doorknob.

“Hi.” Breathless, the Inquisitor stood at his doorway, a tray in her hands with a carafe and mugs, her face calm while her eyes searched his to read whatever mood he was sporting this morning. “I was hoping you might join me for coffee before we meet later?”

There was something missing about her. Something that read she had not acquired what she desired. The dazzle he once witnessed had dimmed, the gleam in her smile felt forced and out place. The air had been dispelled as the draw to her was severed. Whoever this was was a poor masquerade to the character of the woman he had just held in his dreams. 

“Cullen?” Her brows knitted as his demeanor felt cold and further distanced.

The scoff produced by the Commander was wildly cruel , sending Mara to take a step back. “I’m sorry—I-I’ll leave this for you.” Before she could set the tray down Cullen started again, startling her back further.

“I showed you the worst thing I have ever experienced. But what’s worse...is coming here to an _imposter_.” Cullen stepped forward as she stepped away, keeping her in range.

“This must be hell then.” Mara’s eyebrows raised, her mouth gaping in uncertain and unsurfaced words. “I let you into my mind to see things that are sacred. Things you have no worth seeing or desecrating.” Her hands still on the tray, Cullen’s hands tightly bound her wrists in a gesture to subdue this shadowed entity. His jaw clenched as his eyes darkened in the most sinister of looks. “I should show you no mercy.”  
  


In a blur his hands shoved her against the door frame, the tray and carafe dropping from her hands and clambering to the floor in broken and disordered pieces. In a staggered sequence, Mara surveyed his golden eyes flashing to a dark and unrecognized haze as a large hand found her neck, another hand pinning her into the doorframe.  
  


The panic reaction initiated, her eyes widening with mist as she sharply inhaled. The darkness had caught her breath and almost every sense to rebel and defend. Mara focused all of her mental energy on breathing to expel the words. “Pendant.” She whispered, this thick of his hand around her throat as he slowly tightened his grip. Her eyes became blurry and warm as the blood flow stopped at his hand. “Check me,” was murmured in an unconventional stream, her eyes heavy.

Time froze as he interpreted her words; tears streamed as she silently begged him to hear her. To trust her. At least enough in this moment to not send her to the Maker.

The hand pinning her to the doorframe shifted and moved to her temple, carelessly brushing back her blonde hair as her eyes remained on him. His touch was rough and quite unlike the tenderness he had shown her just 24 hours before.  
  
Her eyes closed with his and faintly teetered on the cusp of the fade. Dizzying years or seconds until light filtered green, the beauty of the golden man before her was replaced with someone she no longer recognized. Mara’s lips parted in a stifled gasp, but only one thought permeated. _I’m sorry I’m not her._

~

It’s quiet in the green. Peace becoming her and each fight won and lost. It’s so much easier this way, to be here, to grow into rest, to let others resolve the unfolding impossibilities.

She had given her soul to this war, and each coming war. 

Shaded and warm among the green, she could just… _be_.

But within her in obscure motions, her spirit knew all too well that this was how it would never be, and that she was owed to the war to engage in this battle—and every battle.

~

“Rage, dissent, divide. The falsities run rampant. But you may not harm her.” Sharpened blades unsheathed, daggers knocked against the Commander’s solid frame, forcing him to retreat and break his grasp of Mara. “She is light. She is valor. Vivid, lovely, and kind. She is family.”

Cole stood between the dissent, his timely apparition and presence somehow fuller, taller, and more authoritative that his stature often allowed. In his stillness, the adorned hat dared not bob. In the time Mara was released and slid down the doorframe, Cole’s daggers each found threatening positions against Cullen’s neck and chest. “Wounded and breaking. Disillusioned. But she is not fitting of your curses.”

Cole’s emergence and aimed daggers startled Cullen only briefly, the surprise only grounding and deepening his mistrust of all that this world encompassed. “Back off, _demon_.” Cullen gritted sharply through his teeth.

“She’s sorry she’s not her. The carafe only a beginning to the contriteness. She wants to help, but she doesn’t know how to. Let her. It will heal you too.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just a part of this too. You’re in my head and I want you GONE, _demon_.”

“Pulsing. Flashing. The end and answer, both. Warm and bright against your mouth, her spirt leads you to safety.”

“I said _STOP_.” Cullen hissed, advancing against the daggers still pointed at him.

Cole endured, unflinching as the Commander advanced in his motion and breaking meanings.

“Of the wreckage, of the beating. Cast and lost in darkness. She is the lighthouse. She is who he clings to.”  
  
In brusque and hostile frustration, Cullen shook his head, a shout of anger and sorrow flooding the hall as his body tensed, prepared to lunge. “Those aren’t my thoughts.” The words were spaced and became only more robust with each pause.  
  
“They were his, the warrior fallen and loosely forgotten. He loved her too.”  
  
Cullen raised his head to look at the spirit before him. It was the first time in years he had chosen to look upon this being. Slightly taller, slightly fuller, blonde hair that fell under a moth-eaten hat. Ragged, unsightly, but Cole was someone his Inquisitor had put trust in. He had spoken of something unfathomable.

And yet…  
  
 _He loved her too._  
  
The words reverberated in lower octaves in his mind, pulsing against the pounding vigor within his veins.  
  
 _He had loved her too._

The spirit of Compassion minded the Commander’s breakthrough, watching as the warrior’s face painted from frustration, to agony, to disbelief, to guilt--the realization both softening and paining the warrior’s face. The Commander no longer possessed an intent to maim, but rather an overwhelm to collapse within himself at the spirit’s profession. 

The Commander was brought sharply to his knees, his eyes dizzying and full in some perfect truth. Descending, Cullen saw for the first time in minutes the Inquisitor who had been shielded from the massacre of his hands, an unforgivable sin of red marking her neck. Cullen looked down to his hands in their shaking tremor, his vision unfocused as to what had been in his grasp, of how it rose and fell so quickly, of how his forfeit of trust deceived him--with the near loss of her soul as collateral.

“In his hurt he harmed, but the truth frees the bellows of his tired heart.” Cole knelt down, joining Mara at the floor of the still hallway. “He won’t try again. Are you okay?”

Mara inhaled, wanting to still the movement of the flood of feelings stirring within her. With Cole the truth always appeared to be on the cusp of unraveling, for what she could mask with others she could not in good faith deny with Cole. “Thank you.” She focused on her spirit friend and his eyes she had never seen so clearly. Almost grey in its reflection under blond hair that for once did not appear unkempt. Perhaps she was fixating.

Mara swallowed just as Cole offered his hands to help her up. Mara took them willingly, her arms winding around his tall frame and the serene safety his presence compelled. “You came for me.” She spoke into Cole’s chest, melting into his warmth and spirit. “You called me _family.”_

In some surprise Cole returned her gesture, completing the hug by finding her natural waist, his hands resting on her upper back. “Unwavering and true. You see me as I see you. Like Renée.”

Mara smiled, pulling back to view her friend. Her brows gently furrowed to ponder. Cole was hardly seen these days with no formal ties to the Inquisition, only appearing when needed. When _she_ was in need. He had never specified the work he pursued, but Cole was hardly specific. Until now. Until he shared that there is someone in his life he cares for considerably. And that _she_ sees him for all the goodness in his heart. The thought of Cole being cared for distracted Mara for the moment until her name echoed in the hallway.

“Mara, I’m…” Cullen raised himself from his knees, walking further away instead of forward as his soul wished. “I thought…”

Mara guessed what Cullen had thought. She pulled away from Cole, turning to face Cullen, the red marking beating against her pulsing neck. “Stay in your chambers. We’ll retrieve you when the meeting is called.” Any warmth from her had been dismissed and while she looked in Cullen’s direction, she could not gaze upon him.

A warm hand gently rested on her shoulder from behind. “I’ll tell the others to meet you.” The weight was lifted only a second after the last word. In a flash the spirit had vanished, and a heavy weight threatened to course through Mara as she exhaled.

Cullen walked backwards slowly to retreat to his room, watching as Mara fought not to let the heaviness win. But he was not allowed to see the toll he placed on her or the extravagant burden of his story and disbelief. As Mara solidified her boundaries, a barrier was enforced just as the Commander crossed the threshold into his room, locking him to the confines of the bedchamber’s walls.

Mara had held her breath unknowingly, finally breathing again as the friend returned. “They know.” An arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her from her frozen state. “I’ll take you there. I won’t leave your side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
> **Cole & Mara**  
> Commission by [@The_LuckyBard](https://twitter.com/the_luckybard)


	34. Tempest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The awaited answers to the Golden Boy and his ended world.
> 
> This chapter serves as a bookend of events from Chapters 26-33. While themes from these events will continue, I hope you find some semblance of solace or closure. 
> 
> Thank you for joining me in this liberating and truly remarkable venture. I can't say this enough--sharing this story with you means the world.  
> Ma serannas <3
> 
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (TW: reference to violence)
> 
> Flashbacks are denoted with long dashes.  
> Progression of scenes denoted with ~

It could have been a still life portrait, beautiful in symmetry. The slope of the lines, the fall of the curve, how the rays of moonlight were a permanent fixture in the reflection of the tepid water. The movement of the water had become placid, the last ripples emanating from her movement were many moments ago.

Solas had watched, and waited, as his lover lay still in the clawfoot porcelain bath. Her gaze elsewhere, her mind reeling, and her heart tormented. She would have appeared lifeless--the motion and fury of it all in the currents of her mind--but the Dread Wolf knew better. Mara carried the weight of the world and the weight of one’s heart equally—the mark of her gift and curse.

She had summoned him after meeting with her Inner Circle, standing before the fireplace of her suite with the last of its embers, arms crossed, and gaze drawn to the golden heat. She hadn’t moved or spoken until Solas softly strolled to her side.

And when he called, her head only turned at the second repetition of _Vhenan._

Her neck was painted in a mixture of crimson and aubergine. Solas’ eyes followed from the unforgivable sin up to her welled yet unspilt eyes, full and deep of blue. “Vhenan…” The image burned in his mind, blazing suddenly to the question of origin of this transgression.

Mara swallowed, the red mark flexing with her movement. “May I stay with you?” Her gaze transferred from the embers to her partner. “There’s a lot we need to discuss.”

Solas breathed in and followed with a nod. “Of course.” In steady and poised movements, the Dread Wolf offered his arm. “Will you take my hand?”

In a slowed response, Mara dropped her gaze to the artist’s hand before her, laying her hand and life in his protection, initiating a sequence of black warping fabrics distorting her view. Ribbons of black and warm, hazy colors spun and fell around them; her hands in the Dread’s Wolfs hold centered their movements until the pigments befell unto the suite in the Dread Wolf’s fortress. 

Mara was quiet as she regained her bearings, considering the new bedchambers they stood within and a new form of travel she had not witnessed alongside him. “Apparition… I can accompany you as you apparate?”

Cautiously Solas turned, gently pulling Mara to him hand in hand, wrapping an arm safely around her waist. “Yes, my heart.” In his hold she met his eyes, her shoulders dropping as she relaxed in this familiar and saving comfort. “Will you tell me what happened?”

* * *

_(Earlier that morning)_

Mara leaned against the war table, the surrounding and incoming chatter a dazed fog, her gaze fixated on nothing relevant while her mind lay elsewhere. Cole stood before her, the rogue’s hands cradling hers, giving gentle squeezes to anchor her before the storm takes her. Cole listened to her quiet stream of racing thoughts and plummeting emotions, caught amongst the tempest churning within. “I’m here.” Cole whispered to her, holding Mara’s hands tightly. “I won’t leave until you’re okay.”

Murmuring echoed just beyond the war room until the voices of Cassandra and Leliana stopped when crossing the threshold.

“Why have you called us here, Cole?” Cassandra and Leliana had both left their previous business unattended as the spirit rogue appeared to them in urgency.

Cole’s back faced the door, the breadth of his shoulders blocking the view of Mara. Mara’s gaze, still distant, did not acknowledge the new visitors. “They need us. True and just. To just make the echoes stop. Stopping. Stop. They feel so alone.”

“Your ramblings do not make any sense Cole…” Cassandra and Leliana both stepped further into the war room, each woman trailing closer to either side of Cole until another step forward was hijacked in a unified realization.

“Who… _did this_ to her?” Each of Leliana’s whispered words were drawn out as the horrible marks burned in her vision.

“Mara.” Cole began, at first to try to engage her mind, but alas she was not ready. Reeling, roaming. The remembered act had clasped so tightly to her memory, her mind.

“She had come to him, kindness in hand to brave his mistaken heart... But he mistook her for the ones in the Tower. The ones who prodded and bore sick thoughts, his mind the last refuge.

In his fear he hurt. In her hurt she fears, like before. And before that.” Cole gave Mara’s hands another squeeze, her fingers tightly laced and held within his own, white-knuckled as his grasp was the last thing grounding her from the bleating wind within her.

“The _Commander_ did this.” The gravity in Cassandra’s voice was unmistakable. “ _Where is he_?”

“Bound to his bedchambers, cast until she’s ready.” Cole’s thumbs gently rubbed the back of Mara’s hands to soothe, reading her as she slipped into the Fade. “He won’t hurt her again. He knows now. The world doesn’t make sense. And she most of all. He knows her not, but she feels the same in his hold…

Will you get him?”

Cassandra and Leliana eyed one another, making sense of what they could in Cole’s stream of utterances. Nodding in unison, they stepped back and exited the door to the war room.

~

“Mara.”

Familiar green surrounded them, a home first to his spirit. Wading through the streams of green was easier here than the waking world, easier to _be_ what he was, who he was.

Wafting more than steps, Cole joined the Inquisitor on a dark bench whose shade fluttered in chromatic hues. Before a lake and dense foliage, Cole took the Inquisitor’s hand, speaking first and finally to her soul.

“You face so much pain in your short years. Bearing what is not asked of most. The pain espouses fear, but _you_ are neither pain nor fear. _You_ are light, cast when the striking dark entangles the world and hearts. Fear need not hold you. Let me carry it for you so you may share your light with the world.”

Slowly Mara’s head turned to face her friend to her left, her gaze meeting his grey brilliance and hope. She could hear him more clearly than in the waking world, his gift traversing to her in kind. His voice enchanted her in its melodic manner, richly echoing in octaves among the surroundings.

“You do not have to hold onto the fear. You are not ready to forget, but you do not have to be its captive.”

Mara’s gaze watched the spirit, how his eyes had softened in his own vulnerability, and how his lips hadn’t moved while professing. How was it the purity of his mercy hummed and swirled luminously in her mind without words?

“We understand each other here. Where it’s familiar. Where it’s home between kin.” Cole’s voice was warm and safe in her mind, imparting perfect peace within her. “I will carry this for you.”

There were no audible words in her response, but instead the aching groans of her weary soul, yet tethered from breaking in his presence. In its reflection, Mara watched as Cole lifted a gentle hand to the outline of her face, ever so softly attempting comfort as his fingertips smoothed through the tresses of her blonde hair from her temple to the base of her neck. Among the act Cole cast away the intrusive thoughts, his voice reverberating in her mind.

_Release her. Fear release the ties entangled. May her light breach its hold, unraveled, renewed, and freed._

~

Mara inhaled deeply, a knotted mass lifting from her core, delivering her from its pining clasp. Breathing lungs of new, air so light she felt dazed in a weightless feeling once held within her. She breathed--and breathed anew.

Opening her eyes, she found herself in the war room, securely held in Compassion’s arms. She was no longer bound, but set free in authenticity. Whatever storm had threatened to capsize her was no longer at the forefront.

Mara slowly unraveled her hands from Cole, looking to him with gratitude too great to be surmised in words. Maker, the brilliance from his grey eyes were enough to heal this hollowed world. “Thank you, Cole.” A gratitude arose with a small, sincere smile as she was now weightless and without.

“You’re better now.” A simple understatement as Cole returned to his duty in the waking world. “They are coming back now--with him. Can you face him?”

Mara produced a nod without effort, and yet it was true to her now calm and collected state. “I can.” Mara walked over to her chair at the war table, laying her hands against the leather back of the seat. “Will you stay, though. At least for the beginning?”

“Yes.” Cole walked over to Mara just as more footsteps clambered in the hall, positioning himself just behind Mara while protective in his presence.

The door slowly opened to a group of three who were for once not impervious. It appeared that all had fallen under the spells of raw frustration and confusion, not quite knowing how to process the magnitude of the last few days’ events and revelations. And yet there was more to come. 

Cassandra walked in first, a sulking Cullen promptly behind, with Leliana at the tail end. Chains securing Cullen’s arms behind his back softly swayed as _clinks_ as the three came to a stop. 

Mara couldn’t think of another time when the Inner Circle had been handed such inner turmoil. The sullen looks from her Commander, the sternness of Cassandra’s gritted teeth, the slit among Leliana’s eyes.   
  


“Please be seated.” Mara instructed as the first words in this new atmosphere. In hesitancy, Cullen shuffled to what would have been his normal seat in another life, sitting down at the edge as his hands were bound behind him. 

In trepidation, Leliana and Cassandra took seats on either side of the Commander. With the warrior’s gaze at his feet, he could not witness what had become. Cassandra and Leliana viewed as their leader had returned, no longer bound to the previous captive state.

Mara breathed in through her nose, filling her lungs and the silence, observing the mixed grimaces, anger, caution, and alerted eyes. And the shame carved distinctly from the one who could not share in the gaze of others.

“This… isn’t easy. And in our years together, it has never been _easy_. Standing when few are brave enough to counter for what is right. Uniting when the world shouts for all others to submit. Protecting the dignity and freedom of communities some in Thedas would rather see fall. Fighting dragons and demi-gods…and even _bears_.” Mara exhaled, closing her eyes briefly before continuing.

“Our positions in this world will never be easy. And too much has been asked of the four of us already.” Mara’s eyes followed across the table to the man in chains, who had already given his life and hands to the cause. “We have made sacrifices without reserve. And for some… losses without measure. And I’m asking once more… will you stand with me as we are staged within something we never saw coming? Will you stand alongside me as we construct meaning in the soul who has found us?”

Mara’s speech stirred within the room. Cassandra lifted her gaze, focusing on Mara’s courage and not the earmarks of siege. Leliana inhaled, only briefly weighing the ask from her leader. And Cullen… sat confounded in her ask, eyes still downturned to the floor.

“Will you release him?” This ask was not merely a request. At Mara’s command, another shade of assurance espoused in her timbre.

Cassandra’s face flashed in surprise, but before she could counter Cole intervened. “He will not harm, knowing she is not Desire. And we are not in his mind. He is not your prisoner.”

“Or us? Will he harm us?” Leliana sharply huffed and stood from her chair, wary of discharging him of his crimes so soon. Her palms hit flat against the surface of the table in protest. “You haven’t _yet_ shared with us what you saw yesterday. Or what he could really _be._ ”

“Cullen will not move against us.” Mara interjected this time, and the Inner Circle’s eyes gazed between her and Cullen. Mara shook her head, with loose tendrils released from the tie of her braid. “With what Cullen has shared with me…” In closed eyes, memories of ruin and destruction flooded her thoughts, the course of pounding hearts daring to thrum. In opened eyes, her truth was revealed. “I cannot fault him.” The wrinkles carved in the Commander’s handsome features were a merciless reminder to his lived experience. And he was _here_. And only by her word could be he freed or allowed to choose his role in the world still standing.

For the first time Cullen lifted his eyes, searching the mood within the room of sheer disbelief until he landed on _her_ …and her mercy he could never fathom. How she used his name and did not speak of him as a prisoner. How she asked for his release when he could not do the same just moments before. Cullen’s breath shook tremulously as he exhaled, forcing himself to view the coloration of his hands upon her, and yet the poise she returned humbled and broke him all in the same. There were no words to suffice for his actions or the grace she had lent toward him.

  
Mara nodded curtly once more to Leliana, speaking again with dominion. “Release him.” After a beat, Leliana carefully moved to unchain the golden warrior. Cassandra acquired the cuffs that had once subdued and watched with gritted teeth, cautiously awaiting another move.

“How is she fair when none of this is? She is his home. But this isn’t home.” Cole translated the plight within the Commander. Cullen’s released hands fell in his lap, his leg beginning to shake as he sat and became the spectacle.

Mara breathed in, another string of sentiment released into the air. For how much was exchanged within the room, his voice was not among the conversation. But the weight his eyes carried could sink the greatest of ships. In some curse or fate, the weight resounded and stirred within her own.

“You know he’s not from here?” Leliana asked, pausing to understand.

“Yes.” Cole stepped forward to stand alongside Mara, his gaze travelling from Mara’s softened expression to the cautious curiosity exhibited by both Leliana and Cassandra. “He has seen things, true and real, but not of here. A piece from afar, returned and collected. What we see is not who we have known, but he is there. And with this piece in his entirety.”

Eyes darted in the war room, passing glances as Cole’s message unknotted from its cryptic delivery. Mara looked to this Commander, her own heart pounding as Cole’s truth permeated. This man in the broken composure was not the man saved in the Deep Roads, whose fatal wound evoked a relentless fight for his salvation. The man whose family she had crossed the entirety of Thedas to save before their capture.

And now the Inquisitor thought back to just the morning before. Of _this_ man who had fallen asleep at her side in an attempt to be close to all that was familiar. The man in whom she asked for his trust, inviting him into an embrace meant to part the stirring of barred notions. And somehow through Cole’s revealed truth, the returned piece comprised the man who sat before them. Embedded, woven. Within.

Cullen met Mara’s eyes for the first time since he had wrongly captured her in his hold, how even now in the consuming chaos spun upon his entry, her courage rivaled the grace lent to this disordered and unruly time. How foolish the heart who could bear to strike against her, yet the heart of a man who would become a champion for her in any fate.

Locking eyes with the Inquisitor was too much for the moment. Cullen looked away before his heart and virtues would break further. “Cole…” Cullen’s head slightly turned to the rogue at the Inquisitor’s side. “Is _she_ here? Could she have…made it here? Like me?”

More eyes darted to the unflinching spirit. Of the compounding circumstances, it hadn’t dawned on Mara that his Herald could have been transported. Cullen had told a tale of his betrothed dying before him from the hands of Fen’Harel. But if this were possible… what more could be added to their deck of cards? Would the survivors of a red Lyrium filled world arrive to heed a grave warning?

“Yours is the only piece, singing, shimmering, and shown. I do not hear or feel others.” Cole shuffled his weight, stepping forward to the seated Commander. “I’m sorry. You love her very much. And she no longer knows pain.”

Cullen only gazed at Cole briefly, closing his eyes at the story and the being who came forward.

“Cole…” Cassandra cleared her throat briefly as she segued to another question waiting to be spoken into existence. “Our Commander…” The question that needed to be asked hung on Cassandra’s tongue, the vague answer that still appeared fogged in the minds of the Inner Circle.

But of the few in this world fluent in Cole’s intent and language, Mara had the answer and the imperfect reality. Mara’s eyes flashed to Cole, asking to be the one to answer her companions. “He is both, within a form and conscience from elsewhere.”

Cole read the continued doubt and misunderstanding in the room. “A soul pieced and returned. He is within, but the part we see is who has known the end.”

Perhaps it would never be fully understood.

“What of his body? Are you saying he’s dead-?”

“-What kind of magic could do this?” Cassandra and Leliana’s questions overlapped in this deepened thread of ambiguity.

“I don’t think so…. And I’m not familiar with any magic grand enough to channel this result… but perhaps there wasn’t a caster.” Mara paused, looking from Leliana, to Cassandra, and finally to the Commander. “Cullen is here, safe from escaping ruins. And now we must heed his warning.”

~

In the evening the Inner Circle returned to the war room, free of vindication but not free of reprieve. Time and happenstance collided to a point of no return; Mara led the recall of events of how Cullen came to their world, occasionally glancing to the Commander in silent agreement of the depiction and accuracy of the memory. Private details of the Commander’s last days while in silo were respectfully omitted in her retell. Truthfully, those pieces of his story were perhaps even more relentless to speak to.

…

“There were earthquakes beginning the day the Veil dropped, and the frequency and magnitude increased in time. I don’t know the location of the safehouse, but there was an unfamiliar mountain range to the West.

A barrier, with a radius of about one mile, protected the home, even from the effects of the dropped veil. Earthquakes caused deep ravines in the earth just behind the barrier. The earth was scorched, and this progressed in time. And soon came the darkspawn…  
  
The barrier had kept the darkspawn at bay and ignited those who dared to pass through. But as more of the world was cursed, the barrier diminished in diameter, then weakened until it ceased.  
  


On the thirtieth day…” Her dictation had been rather composed, detailing the events. But as Mara thought back to the last day vividly, her voice trembled. “On the last day… Swarms of darkspawn overcame the safehouse. But by then the home had been split by the resounding earthquakes, opening to deep ravines littered in red Lyrium. A storm, heavy and thick, swathed the air in orange lightning that crackled flat along the skyline. Magic vibrated so heavily in the air that it felt as though it were combusting. A blinding rift opened within the remnants of the home, and passage through brought Cullen just a few miles away from this current hold.” Mara cleared her throat, as retelling the memory and its realities sickened her once more.

“With the marked decay and cursing of the earth and darkspawn…” Mara looked to her Inner Circle and then to Cullen, unsure if he had made the same conclusion. Her brows knitted as she gazed at the man who had already survived the end. And now for another. “I believe the earth was blighted.”

“Inquisitor…” Leliana’s tongue attempted to curb the permeating heaviness if only to turn another direction. “The account you have disclosed in part resembles my experience with the Fifth Blight.”

But not entirely. And the companions did not have to think far to connect the uncanny pursuit of the Red Lyrium Idol. “Have you shared these observations with Solas?”

Mara breathed in deeply, fighting a tremble that began at her core. “No.” Already her mind had been ablaze in the answers she needed, that they needed, that all of Thedas needed to know.

~

The war room emptied, leaving Mara to sort through the collection of imperfect moments and events of the day. The wreckage was far from over—requiring answers from many voices across Thedas.

But she was not alone. She needed this voice too that had lain silent.

“May I speak with you?” Cullen could not pass through the threshold just yet this evening, not without saying _anything._ His tall form leaned against the doorframe, head low in thought as he searched for a coherent account.

Mara exhaled, resting against the lip of the table. “Yes, Cullen?”

Cullen raised his eyes to brave her face, baffled how even now she was not only the diplomatic leader, but a woman fluid in her own puzzling understanding of what they owe to each other. Hurt was unfortunately earmarked in her beautiful complexion, but her eyes searched him in patience.

“I should not have doubted your character. I just…” Any remaining composure faltered, his heart and anguish a mess in their hands. “You had to be everything she was not. You had to be cruel, unkind, manipulative. You had to not really care. Otherwise...” _Otherwise none of this made sense_. A heavy sigh as guilt and shame unsettled the murky travesty of the anger. “I don’t know how to _be_ around you. To _be here_.”

Speaking it into existence only furthered the divide. But in this space could both hearts begin to mend.

“I need time.” Cullen decided, his gaze anywhere but the woman before him.

Mara nodded, her heavy heart already worn. _How did this still hurt?_ “I understand, Cullen. Whatever you need.”

After a moment Cullen turned to leave. Mara watched the warrior as he planned his exit, but the same could not be said of him. Cullen’s hands trailed the doorframe, his stature pausing briefly before escaping without a gaze to the woman he left entirely behind. 

* * *

_(Original timeline: a few weeks earlier upon the Commander’s leave to settle his family)_

Why did each step only further the divide, actualizing the chance that this could be it? Because in part, it might really be. This could be the final farewell and a close of the most vibrant chapter in either of their lives. And this close, while on course for some time, left Mara feeling disjointed in a closure she was not ready to accept.

Cullen’s eyes flittered, following the change in color in Mara’s features as she stood before him in the last illuminations of twilight. How if one were patient enough, her soul and its wants could be read through the depths of her cerulean gates. This wanting light drew him in, allowing him to contemplate the magnitude of want reflected in his own regard, and yet curious if she realized the light emitted in the intimacy of his company.

“Mara.” Cullen stepped forward, narrowing the space he had allowed, careful to note how instead of a stiffened posture, her shoulders dropped with her guard, accepting him into a space most oft saved for lovers. A silent sigh escaped her parted mouth, and as some knowing flooded the churning ocean of her eyes, her gaze fell gently until they closed. Everything known and unknown had somehow found purchase in this moment. She was real, as was this moment, whether Herald or Inquisitor titled her, she was _real_. Cullen had accepted her silent answer weeks ago in his room, but within her touch was the purview of deeply rooted, yet never blossomed seeds of admiration. Oh the majesty of dreaming, of a time and place where this could flourish. 

Cullen placed one more step forward, joining his mouth to the bloom of her cheek in a whisper. “I do not regret my years of service in Your name. And… I trust how deeply you care for this world.” The thrum of her heavy breath against his face was an answer in itself--reverie instead of retreat. Trailing lightly, his right hand softly swept down her shoulder and back, down the length of her arm and fingers, briefly hesitating before carefully holding her hand in a fond squeeze. “I trust you, Mara. Whatever is to come.” Cullen gave a small pause before inhaling, pursuing a compellingly tender press of his lips to the height of her cheek, lingering for a second and one second more before his final retreat.

Mara opened her eyes, welled with intent, as she watched Cullen pull away and tread to the caravan that could take him to his last destination—somewhere East in Ferelden to his family’s new home. A life he could live within the vicinity of his siblings, extended family, and perhaps even his own one day. The choice was his, and in this time and distance away, he could choose a vastly different life to lead.


End file.
